The Other Side
by karigrace
Summary: Slytherins are evil. Gryffindors are good. It is the way things are. But there is so much that most people never see. Look at The Half-Blood Prince, R.A.B. and Wormtail. What about the side of the story that the Gryffindor heroes missed in their day to day lives? Could Ginevra have seen others who were misjudged? Take a look at the other side of the story. - D/G Canon through HBP.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 –

Eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy walked out of Ollivander's with his brand new wand. He was slightly confused as to why the old man had worn such an odd, almost surprised expression as he announced that the wand which had chosen "The young Master Malfoy" was made of Hawthorn with a core of unicorn hair. Nevertheless, Draco merely placed his wand in the leather sheath his mother had bought for him. It made him feel very grown up, like his father, who had one very similar.

"Come along, Darling," came the soft, almost bell-like voice of his mother. She was several strides ahead of him and he hurried to catch up. They made their way towards the shop where his father was no doubt impatiently waiting to meet them so they could leave this part of Diagon, which seemed to be overflowing with families shopping for school supplies. He knew that crowds, especially those containing excessive numbers of children, grated on his father's nerves.

It seemed to Draco that the only two children he had ever seen his father interact with in an open and affectionate manner were himself and his best friend Blaise. While others might have seen the man as harsh and cold, Draco knew him to be quite the opposite, at least with those few who held the man's respect and love. This was the mindset his father had raised him to understand. Of all those you meet, care for only a few. However, once you have chosen those few, do whatever you must to keep and to protect them.

Draco had realized as he had gotten older that it was this philosophy which had allowed his father to protect both him and his mother during the Dark War. Draco had heard people question the things his father had done during the War. He had heard them call him evil. But Draco knew that this opinion was not true. He wondered what they themselves would have done in his father's place. Everyone knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived and how both of his parents had been killed trying to protect him. He knew that if it came down to it, his father would have done the same thing to protect his family. However, he could not imagine growing up without his father and was glad, proud even, that his father had been able to use his wits to avoid the same fate as the famous Potter family. It was with these thoughts in his mind that Draco followed his mother along the crowded street.

Just as they approached the bookstore where his father waited, Draco's attention was caught by a pair of boys a couple of years older than he was. He watched as they snuck up on a little girl and snatched something from her arms. She looked very much like they did, even more so as she set her jaw in irritation as their teasing continued. The two tossed the bundle back and forth between each other until one missed it and it landed in a heap next to where Draco stood. The two boys – Draco assumed they were the girl's older brothers – darted away laughing as the girl glared after them with her hands on her hips.

Draco bent down and retrieved what he now saw to be a small, somewhat ragged and clearly well loved doll off the ground and straitened up to return it to the little girl. He looked up as she whirled around to face him. The first thing that he noticed was how her vivid, fiery red hair flew around her face as she spun towards him. While her brothers' hair had seemed loud and shocking, much like their personalities appeared to be, the girl's hair looked deeper, warmer and reminded him of an open flame. The picture she made, all aggravation at her brothers, curiosity about the pale blond boy now holding her doll, her tiny stature and blazing hair brought to mind a picture he had once seen of a fire sprite. This impression, combined with the deep look in her soft brown eyes made him pause in his movements for just a second.

Seeing the cautious expression on her face, Draco was about to say something to comfort her when he got a better look at her as a whole. Other than her hair, he quickly took in the freckled cheeks, and the worn-looking robes the girl was wearing. Combining all of those features, the dingy doll he still held in his hand and the previous sight of at least two brothers he quickly realized who the little girl must be. Or at least what family she must belong to. His father had told him, rather disdainfully, about this pure-blood family who acted no better than muggleborns – worse even, if one considered the fact that they did not have the excuse of ignorance or weak muggle blood. The fire sprite was a _Weasley_.

At this realization, Draco wanted to drop the rags and hurry to his parents, who he noticed at that moment speaking with one of his father's associates a few paces away. He could not do it though. Despite the rather distressing realization of who the girl was, he found he could not simply react to her as he might to others who he saw as beneath him.

Just then in the midst of his confusion he heard his name called out again, this time by his father who was clearly readying himself to leave the crowded area. Hurriedly, Draco handed the doll gently but firmly back to the girl.

"Keep an eye on your surroundings and next time they might not be able to take your things, Sprite," he murmured as he passed by her and strode over to where his parents were waiting.

He did not think that they had seen the girl – the Sprite – as there was no derisive comments about "wizards without any self-respect" as usually accompanied the topic of the Weasleys. For that he was glad as he was already somewhat confused about their interaction. It was, however, forgotten fairly quickly when Blaise arrived later that afternoon and they discussed all of the amazing things they were simply sure would happen in the coming year at Hogwarts. It was not until later that night as he lay in his bed watching the flames flicker in the hearth across from his bed that his thoughts returned to the little girl just as he fell asleep.

The next morning he woke well rested, only vaguely remembering dreams about a little fire sprite with deep brown eyes.

* * *

Ginevra Weasley watched as the elegant lady passed by her and headed towards the store where her mum was currently attempting to help the youngest of her brothers, Ron, find his first year school books. The store had been too crowded for her and entirely too much temptation for her trouble-making twin brothers, the next ones up from Ron. Because of this her mother had suggested that the three of them and their father should wait outside where less damage to the bookseller's property could be committed. This arrangement suited Ginevra just fine. She enjoyed watching people, often seeing things that others seemed to miss while at the same time getting drawn into little details and missing some things that were so obvious to a more casual observer.

She was sure that her mother's thoughts had leaned towards the idea that, as their father, Ginevra's dad could keep them out of trouble. However, he was soon talking with a friend of his who was similarly stationed outside to wait for wife and children to complete their shopping. Seeing his distraction the twins seized upon the slightest hint of a lull in supervision. While she was distractedly watching the graceful way in which the blonde women walked as she passed by, Ginevra suddenly felt the doll in her arms snatched away.

She whirled to find Fred, the twin on her right, brandishing the swaddled bundle and a wide grin on his face. As she grabbed to take it back Fred swiftly tossed it over her head to George, the other smirking twin. It was not unusual for them to play these kinds of games at home, out of their mother's sight of course, but it was usually Ron or Percy, the next brother above them, who were the targets. Ron had a short fuse and they took great pleasure and in setting it off while Percy had the tendency to be a prat in general and they enjoyed messing with his carefully planned out existence.

It was likely only their boredom after having to behave long enough to collect their own list of schoolbooks that let them forget why they did not usually pick her as their target. Though she was much younger, only ten in a few days, her temper was not usually something that even these two brothers made a habit of setting off. Though less explosive than Ron's and far less amusing than Percy's, Ginevra's temper tended to run at a slow boil. It took more to truly make her mad but once really irritated she tended to hold on to a grudge and was pretty wicked with her revenge. After all, she had been well taught by the twins themselves the fine art of causing trouble without getting caught.

Apparently this had slipped their minds as the twins continued to play keep-away with her doll as Ginevra grew more irritated with each toss. This might have kept up for a long while had their father not caught what they were doing as he glanced over at them. Startled by their father's sharp call of "Fred! George!" they both whirled around, dropping the doll and laughing, and rushed off to find some other mayhem to create.

Ginevra stood in a creditable imitation of her mother when she dealt with the twins' foolishness – hands on hips and teeth clenched – when she heard someone close behind her in the general direction of where George had tossed her doll. She whirled around, afraid that the doll, her favorite toy, might be lost if she did not collect it. She was startled to see a boy straitening up from the ground, holding her toy. While she did not really think that a boy would want a doll, she was still nervous that he might take it simply to be mean like the twins had. It was not until she looked at his face that she was distracted from her concern.

Standing in front of her was possibly the most striking person she had ever seen. He was not exactly handsome, as some of her older friends described boys that they fancied, nor was he pretty. His features were too angular to be handsome or pretty, she thought, but not sharp enough to look awkward. His skin was pale, but not pallid. It looked the way her own might were it not for the freckles all over her nose and cheeks. It was, however, his hair and eyes that made his looks so very remarkable. Ginevra had never seen someone with such white blond hair. When his head tilted as he took her in, she noted that it almost appeared to shimmer with a silver tint. She had also never before seen eyes like his. From her frequent observations of people she knew it was not unusual to see many with blond hair and blue eyes, quite typical really. The difference with this boy was that his eyes were not blue but an ice grey, and like his hair had streaks of silver running through them. The overall impression she received between his eyes, hair and angular appearance was that of steel, or perhaps lightning.

The boy was looking at her with an expression somewhere between consideration and wariness. As she gazed back she supposed that the look on her face must probably mirror those same emotions. Just then a call came from somewhere behind her and she felt him gently push the doll back into her arms. When he walked past her he quietly and kindly reprimanded her about attending to what was happening around her in the future then moved to join a man and woman who must have been his parents. As it did not seem like he was trying to treat her like a baby with his suggestion, like Ron did when he bossed her around, she did not take offence. Her mother told her regularly that she needed to pay attention to what was happening around her. "You get so lost in your own head, my little Gin," she would say. "You need to know what's happening outside of it, too." She knew this was true and thought that this boy was not teasing, merely making an observation.

She stood and watched the boy and his parents – she realized that his mother was the lovely lady she had been admiring earlier – as they moved away down the street. Taking his suggestion, she did her best to stay more aware at what was happening around her and was able to notice the twins as they came up behind her.

"What are you looking at, Gin?" George questioned from her left.

"The Lightning Boy who picked up my doll for me. The doll that you dropped I might add," she answered with a hint of threat at the end.

"The lightning boy?" they both looked where she was watching and glanced at each other.

"If you mean the group of pasty-pale blonds walking away-" Fred started,

"Those are the Malfoys," finished George. "You should stay away from their lot."

"You've heard dad go on about them and what evil, slimy gits they all are," his twin reminded her.

Inwardly, Ginevra was completely surprised that the Lightning Boy who had been so intriguing and actually fairly polite to her had been a _Malfoy_. They were supposed to be horrible, icky people who thought that anyone not like them was below them. She was surprised but decided to withhold judgment on the youngest Malfoy until such a time as she saw more of him. In her examination of people she had learned that they are often not what you first assume and sometimes it just takes a while to understand who they really are.

"Well, Malfoy or no Malfoy, I think you two should get me a licorice wand," she told them with a calm authority that might have been amusing in an almost-ten-year-old had she not looked so very serious.

"And why, sister dearest-" began Fred,

"would we do that?" George finished.

"Because, brothers of mine, it's that or I tell mummy that you stole my doll and were being mean to me while she was in the store. Then this afternoon she might find out about that experiment up in your room under the loose floorboard…" she trailed off suggestively.

They both groaned and then fished in their pockets for enough change to buy her the requested treat. Really, they both knew that they were getting off rather easily from irritating her earlier. They were simply lucky that their sister was still mildly intrigued by her Lightning Boy and not in the mood to plot her usual level of vengeance. With the sweet in hand, Ginevra followed the rest of her family as they made their way home with their day's purchases.

Lying in her bed that night, she closed her eyes and dreamt of lightning.

* * *

AN: This is a rather long story and is still a WIP. I would love to have someone preread and/beta it for me if anyone is interested. I am already 19 chapters and well over 70,000 words in. I plan to update once a week at least, more if I get extra time to write. I gave myself a head start as I have a husband and an 8-month-old who are the loves of my life and take priority over writing. Let me know what you think! Reviews would definitely be motivating to write more after little one is down for the night and I'm tempted to just go to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 –

It was not until he actually arrived at Hogwarts and encountered what seemed to be an army of other Weasleys who attended the school that Draco really understood why his father had held such strong feelings against the family. His initial impression of them having been focused on the Fire Sprite, he had mentally debated whether or not his father could have been mistaken, at least in part, about how terrible they all were. It became a regular occurrence for Draco, between the meeting with the little Sprite and his departure for Hogwarts, to catch his trail of thought drifting toward her. He noticed that this seemed to happen most often at night as he looked at the fire that glowed low in his room just before nodding off to sleep. He had been thinking that perhaps not all of them were as awful and low as father had described. Then he had the utter misfortune to share the same air as Sprite's oaf of a brother.

His initial interaction with the youngest Weasley boy had come on the train. He had heard him spouting off some vitriolic rubbish to the twins Draco had seen at Diagon Alley, clearly also among the masses of Weasleys. He had been going on and on bragging that as he was neither evil nor a slimy creep he would clearly not be sorted into Slytherin. Weasley, the one in Draco's year, had then continued to add that "only gits who thought they were above everyone else, like the Malfoys and the Blacks, ended up in that house."

Soon after, Weasley wandered off to find a compartment of his own but not before Draco had made up his mind about him. Hearing the kinds of things coming from the idiot's mouth made Draco decide not to doubt his father's judgment in the future. Clearly, the Weasleys really were little better than muggles if they were all as completely stupid as this one sounded. Only in the very back of his mind did Draco decide to wait to see her again before lumping Sprite in with the rest of them.

* * *

Almost a full year had passed before Ginevra had seen the Lightning Boy again. While she had heard his father call him by his name, Draco, in the street that day, she still called him by the title she had given him whenever he crossed her mind. It was not a regular occurrence; after all, she had only encountered him that once. But occasionally, when she would see light reflecting off of a bit of silver or when lightning would crack across a swirling grey sky, he would come to mind and she would wonder where he was and what he was doing that day.

It was not until the day that her family returned to Diagon Alley for her own first year supplies that their paths crossed again. In the midst of the mayhem caused by the appearance of two big celebrities in the bookshop Ginevra happened to glance up to the catwalk that comprised the second floor of the store. Her eyes were drawn to a set of stormy silver eyes that stared back at her with a look of recognition and remembrance. Although she was happy to see him there, she was less than pleased by the ensuing interactions between her family and his. It had also irritated her that the only attention he had paid her at all had been as part of his taunting of her brother and his friends.

As they left the overcrowded area and headed towards home, Ginevra remembered the twins' warnings about Malfoys. She decided from then on to try and put the Lightning Boy out of her head. The heat that night which caused a spectacular summer lightning show seemed to defy her resolution from the very start.

* * *

Draco had been surprised when he spotted the Fire Sprite in among the tittering masses of adoring fans gathered round to worship the gaudy fool of a Defense teacher and his highness Saint Potter at the bookstore before school had started that year. It sent a bolt of jealousy up his spine and encouraged him to taunt not only Potter but also her brother, and by extension Sprite herself. The rest of the scene at the store, especially the encounter between their fathers, had admittedly gotten out of hand.

He had been nearly shocked by how rashly his father had acted when he was usually so in command of himself. When he had asked his father about his unusual behavior, the only answer he had received had been fairly vague but enough to cause him to be concerned.

"I did what I had to do in order to protect you," his father had answered. He did not think that his father had meant for him to hear the added comment of "if he requires a child at Hogwarts to do his bidding, better anyone than you," that was muttered under his breath.

It was odd for his father to not give a real explanation when Draco asked him a question. One of Draco's favorite things about his father was the way he usually talked to him. He never made Draco feel as if he was talking down to him or as if his son was too young to understand the things he said. If he needed to, his father would explain something in greater detail than he would have to when talking to an adult. But once the explanation was complete, he would discuss things with Draco the same as he did with anyone else he respected. Draco always felt important that someone as smart as his father would take the time to hear his thoughts and discuss things with him. The fact that he had not really answered him made Draco curious. He wondered who the "he" his father had mentioned was and why his father appeared almost sick and worried at the mumbled statement.

* * *

It had been unpleasant for Ginevra at the end of the previous year to learn that Lucius Malfoy, the Lightning Boy's father who looked so much like him, had been the one to curse her with the diary. She had learned this before any of the others, from Tom himself in fact. He had told her at the end as he grew stronger and she weakened. He clearly did not see the issue in revealing secrets to someone who would never live to tell. She did live, however, and she even managed to feel some measure of pity towards Mr. Malfoy, despite the horror he had sentenced her to.

He had apparently stumbled upon the diary while ridding his house of some less-than-savory-items, Tom told her, and had begun to be controlled by its power just as she had. When Tom had suggested, in such a way as to not be disobeyed, that the diary should be sent to school along with his son, the man had grasped at any reason not to put the boy in Tom's power. Though he did not know that Tom was actually Voldemort's younger self, he knew that the diary held powerful magic and was loathed to put his son in harm's way. He suggested that Draco would be a target of suspicion from the beginning of whatever dark plan Tom had devised. It would be more prudent, he said, to use a child from a different family – a light family – so that they would be less likely to be detected and stopped. The encounter at the bookstore had been the perfect opportunity to be rid of the diary and its control.

Rather than making her hate the Malfoys as the rest of her family seemed to it had the opposite effect. The boastful and condescending explanation Tom had given her about the man's desperate attempt at protecting his son, which Tom had mocked so harshly, had made her able to relate to them. It had made them seem human, susceptible to attack and protective of their own, much like her own family felt for each other. It only stoked to her ever-repressed interest in the Lightning Boy. She found herself thinking about him once more over the summer and watching him as the new school year began. She noticed that, while he spent plenty of his time finding ways to torment her brother and his friends, he did not bother her unless it was as part of antagonizing Ron. She wondered if there was a reason for this, but shook it off as simple coincidence and tried to get on with her class work.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 –

When his father had lost his position on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, Draco had questioned him about what had happened. The very short explanation of the diary and what his father believed had happened with "the little Weasley girl" had scared, shocked and worried him. He had been scared at learning that it could have been him, shocked to find that it had been Sprite, possessed by a dark object, who had carried out the attacks by force the previous year, and worried about how she was recovering from such a perilous experience.

He was immensely relieved, in spite of himself, to see her on the train with her twin brothers looking fine, if a little shaken, even after the visit from the Dementors. He supposed that if she was not visibly traumatized from being forced to relive whatever had happened last year through the cloaked figures' influence, she would hopefully be just fine. The blond boy was somewhat surprised by how very protective of her he had felt since hearing his father's explanation. It was not, however, until the Defense class in which they faced the boggart that he realized just how far that feeling went.

As he considered his greatest fear, the only serious one he had felt since he was a little boy, Draco was horrified to picture the forms of the people he cared for most lying dead or dying in front of him. He saw the faces of his mother, father and Blaise staring back at him with lifeless eyes and he felt as his skin turned clammy at just this image from his nightmares. It took him a minute to realize that there were four faces in this tableau where before there would only have been three. The fourth and newest figure lay like the others, her usually fiery hair dulled in death, vibrant brown eyes muddied and vacant while her tiny frame, seemingly shrunken even smaller, lay clutching a worn leather-bound book to her chest. Having a new addition to this ghastly lineup of his greatest fears was unsettling and worrisome. He was grateful that Professor Lupin had ended the lesson before he actually had to face the boggart. He had no idea how to make such a scene any less horrifying, let alone humorous.

Having taken to heart the lesson his father had taught him about guarding himself against letting people in, he was not used to caring what happened to almost anyone outside of his parents and Blaise. He was not sure how he should feel about it. But then he remembered what had happened – or at least he thought had happened, it might have been a dream regardless of the evidence left to the contrary – at the beginning of the year. It was during the night he had spent in the hospital wing when he had gone and gotten himself attacked by a hippogriff.

The wound on his arm had been slow to heal as it was made by a magical creature and therefore apparently somewhat more resistant to healing by magic than if made by a common animal. Because of this he had been given a pain dampening potion and told to rest for a while. There had been a slight noise as the door to the ward cracked open and what Draco, in his groggy state, took to be an actual fire sprite peered around it. Once it was clear that he was the only one in the ward the sprite stepped towards him, looking more like a girl, and a very familiar one at that, as she got closer.

When she reached him, she leaned over and placed a chocolate bar on his bedside table. "Chocolate won't heal you from a magical creature attack but it will make you feel better more quickly," she explained as if she had every reason in the world to want him to get well soon. Through his drowsy haze he watched her as she observed him for a moment then reached up to brush his hair out of his eyes. "Be more careful what you say and next time you might not get hurt, Draco," she murmured before turning and leaving the room.

That last sentence had sparked a memory. He thought of the advice he had given her the first time they had met just before he drifted off to sleep. Since then he had been even more drawn towards her than ever before. Thinking back to that evening, Draco concluded that it maybe should not have come as such a revelation that she was gaining a place on his list of people who mattered.

* * *

Ginevra was not entirely sure herself why she had taken the chocolate to Draco – she now used his name almost as much in her thoughts as she had "Lightning Boy" when she first met him – but it felt like something she had needed to do. In all honesty she was not even sure if he remembered her having been there, he was so out of it at the time. There had been very few run-ins between the two of them after that for the rest of the school year, but at times when her eyes strayed to him in the Great Hall she would catch his staring back at her. It was not until the end of the summer at the Quidditch World Cup that they had any real interaction, though.

Ginevra had seen him sitting in the Top Box with his parents. His mother looked just as elegant as the first time Ginevra had watched her in Diagon Alley. It struck her then how much he had grown up, they both had, since that first time they had met. At fourteen he was now slightly taller than his mother and stood just a few inches shorter than his father's imposing height. The two blond men, who shared an even stronger resemblance now than they had that first time, sat on either side of wife and mother in an easy manner, but one that could swiftly become shielding if necessary. The two teens had obviously not spoken considering their families sitting round, glaring at each other at the slightest opportunity. However, later when all of the chaos had broken out in the middle of the night, she had seen him briefly among the crowds of people heading for the trees.

He had been with his mother, heading away from the source of the commotion, and looked both protective and frightened. At the moment the twins stopped to determine which direction would be best, Draco and his mother drew up near to them as well. She heard them worry about having been separated from his father and briefly arguing about whether to wait for the man to find them or to head further into the woods. They quickly compromised, determining that Draco would wait under the cover of the forest, just inside the tree line and watch for his father's approach. Meanwhile his mother would checked the point a little further in the woods where their portkey had dropped them off to see if perhaps he had thought to meet them there.

It was as his mother hurried away with a backward glance of concern for her son, that he noticed Ginevra and her brothers standing there. The apprehension was still present in his eyes as he took in her fearful expression. As another bang was heard from the direction of the campground his eyes narrowed at her and she was struck again by the way they seemed to flash, even in the dark surroundings. He nodded sharply with his head towards the deeper woods which offered more safety, the same direction he had sent his mother just moments before. Catching his meaning, Ginevra tugged on George's hand that had not yet let go of her own and urged them on in the direction the Lightning Boy had indicated. It was odd, and less than logical considering he was one underage wizard, how much more at ease she felt with having him at her back. _Protected_.

It was not until the episode in the entrance hall with Moody and his insanity of a "punishment" that Ginevra realized that the protective instincts developing between the two were certainly not one sided. She did not think she had ever felt so angry, enraged even, to have the spectacle unfold in front of her. It was a good thing that McGonagall had intervened with she did as it would never have gone over well for Ginevra to attack a teacher, especially over a Malfoy. Luckily, anyone who saw her reddening cheeks and flashing eyes just assumed it had been simply a reaction to is admittedly irritating and juvenile taunting of her family. No one had to know how little of her usually smoldering temper his words had affected.

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the late post. Real life has been crazy! Just means you'll get two posts this week. Be on the lookout for a new chapter Friday or Saturday. **

**Happy Father's Day! **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 –

It was several months after his run in with Moody in the entrance hall before Draco had any real contact with his Sprite. He was not sure when she had become _his_ Sprite but he thought it must have been sometime in between the World Cup and his experience with Moody's insanity. The former, when he had been nearly as worried about her running away in the dark as he had been for his mother, had been the starting point. The latter had simply solidified her place in his mind. As he had been lying on the floor after McGonagall transfigured him back he had caught a glimpse of her in the crowd. At first he had thought that the look of sheer loathing on her face had been directed at him for the cruel things he had said to her brother.

In retrospect he realized that he had probably gone too far with his words, especially as anything said about her parents reflected on her as well. It just always seemed that he got carried away when it came to taunting her brother. Getting Weasley riled up was, he would admit, one of his favorite pastimes, but he usually he found himself taking things further than he intended to. She had clearly been right in her quiet reprimand in the Hospital Ward last year. He knew it was his mouth that got him into trouble more often than not. He knew he needed to take her advice and choose what he said and who he said it to more carefully.

However, it was not towards him that her burning glare had been directed but Moody. He wondered if that feeling of protectiveness that he still could not really explain was reflected in her feelings towards him as well. Since then, she had always been _his_ whenever she came to his mind.

Because he had already acknowledged to himself that he felt something towards her, he was not entirely caught off guard when sharp pangs of jealousy shot through him as she walked in to the Yule Ball with Longbottom. It was certainly the first time in his life that he had ever felt that particular emotion in Longbottom's direction but it was unmistakable. Unfortunately, it was clearly evident not only to himself but to Blaise as well. At least his friend waited until Draco's "date," Pansy, had walked away.

Having grown up together in the same social circles, Draco and Pansy had been good enough friends since they were small. They had gotten along well up until the past year. It was at that point that the girl had, in Draco's opinion, lost her mind and decided that she was completely in love with him, much to his chagrin and Blaise's amusement. Since then, she was a general nuisance in his life on a good day. Do something to upset her little world and she suddenly became a raving, insatiable harpy until he found a way to placate her. Therefore, when Pansy had informed him that they would be going to the Ball together he had simply not cared enough to argue the fact. It simply was not worth the trouble.

Once she was out of hearing range Blaise stepped closer, eying Draco's put out expression. "Something's eating at you, Drake, and it's clearly more than the bother of your _lovely_ escort," his friend observed quietly, rolling his eyes at the mention of Pansy and her garish pink gown. "I haven't seen a scowl quite like that one in a long time. Hadn't noticed it earlier this evening either. Not until a certain red-headed third year walked in on Longbottom's arm. Interesting, isn't she?"

Draco looked at Blaise sharply, trying to both gage his friend's reaction to his interest in a Weasley of all people and to attempt to determine what he might do with the new information. Blaise's teasing smirk was reassuring enough that he was only amused rather than shocked, but he was still curious as to what the other boy thought about the matter.

"Interesting? Why do you say that? You can't possibly be interested in the girl," Draco attempted to feign disinterest in the subject. But he was also slightly wary from the look on Blaise's face that his friend might be _interested_ in Sprite, himself.

At the look of nervous concern on the blonde's face that he was clearly trying to hide, Blaise's expression turned from smirking to a warm grin fairly quickly.

"While she's fascinating, not to mention growing up to be beautiful, we both know I'd never take something that was yours. Really Drake, I may be a selfish prat at times but you know that you're one of the only people outside of mother whom I'd never knowingly do anything to hurt," the last phrase was spoken in an undertone. There were only a few people, mainly their parents and a few friends, who realized what close friends the two Slytherins were; practically brothers in their own minds.

At the reassurance, Draco's face cleared somewhat, only a hint of the earlier jealousy remained. It took someone who knew him as well as Blaise to even see it. It was not until a few minutes later as he saw Pansy making her way back towards them that he heard Blaise add quietly from beside him, "However, if you ever do decide that you don't care if she's yours or not, you better have made up your mind for sure. I don't want there to be problems between us but if you say you don't care, I'm taking that as a go-ahead."

Draco glanced at his friend sharply just as Pansy sauntered up, babbling on about some drivel that only she cared about. Blaise's face showed no hint of threat or challenge, but it was clear to Draco from the vast experience they had shared that Blaise was serious. Not only that, but he was also interested enough in Sprite for him to offer a warning to Draco, something he would never have bothered to do over a passing fancy. As always seemed to be the case whenever she was concerned, Draco was not at all sure how he should fell about the whole situation.

* * *

Between the growing excitement as the Triwizard Tournament drew nearer to its end and the general concern felt throughout her group of friends about Harry being a participant, Ginevra had been somewhat distracted from her usual observation of her Lightning Boy. She had found herself fairly annoyed by the way that Parkinson cow had been hanging all over him during the ball last Christmas. She was pretty sure, however, that it was a combination of the fact that she disliked the girl and that she was simpering around Draco. Either way, she had done her best to enjoy the night with Neville. She overlooked when he stepped on her feet, and attempted to ignore the fact that both Draco and his friend Zabini seemed to watch her quite regularly throughout the evening. On the few occasions that she allowed herself to meet their gazes, she offered up a tentative smile, as long as the cow was not attaching herself like a fungus to Draco's person at that moment.

Since then, other than similar half smiles and nods in the hallways at times, Ginevra had not really seen much of her Lightning Boy throughout the rest of the school year. However, since the end of the Triwizard Tournament and the news that Voldemort had returned in the flesh there had been little time for attention towards anything else besides Order business. Even as an underage witch, not yet a member of the Order, she had been working so hard cleaning that awful house that even at night she was too tired to do much other than sleep, let alone think about her Lightning Boy. But today, he had suddenly been drawn to the forefront of her mind and she was having a difficult time concentrating on much else at all. The reason for his abrupt reappearance in her thoughts was finding his face staring back at her from the Black family tapestry in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place.

Ginevra had known that the Malfoys and Sirius were related. It was common for anyone from a pure-blood family to at least have a basic understanding of the connections between the various prominent houses. But the thought that she might come across something related to him in this house had simply not occurred to her until then. It was unsettling to realize, as she looked over the bottom portion of the tapestry, how very closely related Draco was to someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, who was such a staunch follower of Voldemort, not to mention completely insane.

She knew, both from rumor and from information given to her from Tom at the end of her time with him, that Draco's father had been a Death Eater. It seemed, however, as if he was more interested in protecting his son than following the orders of a dark, somewhat deranged Tom Riddle, even while under the power of the diary. Frightening questions occurred to her quite suddenly. What would Tom's return mean for Draco and his family? Would they return to serve him? Would they even have a choice in the matter? It had been several years since she had been truly afraid of Tom himself; time spent with him in the diary and the Chamber had cured her of that. She was still afraid of what he could do to those she cared about. While her family was clearly not safe – no one was until Tom was defeated again – if she was honest with herself she was probably more scared of what could happen to Draco and those around him who could be on the front row in Tom's presence with hardly anyone to cover their backs. At this realization Ginevra was suddenly quite anxious for the beginning of the school year to arrive so she could see for herself that the Lightning Boy was still alright.

* * *

AN: Introducing Blaise! We will be seeing more of him in the future. He is one of my favorite characters that is left somewhat under-developed in the books. It just gives me that much more room to work with him.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 –

Life had gotten progressively worse since the moment Draco had stepped off the train from school. After the gruesome end of the Triwizard Tournament and Potter's assertion that the Dark Lord had returned Draco had been unsure what would be waiting for him at home. Never would he have imagined how bad things had become. Upon his arrival his mother, looking more harried and disheveled than he had ever seen her, hurried him to a fireplace and flooed them both home directly to his parents suite of rooms. The family's private portion of the house, which included his parents' quarters, his father's private study and Draco's own rooms, was the most well-warded in the entire manor. Having been brought there, he was already on edge. It was unusual to enter the house anywhere but through the main fireplace in the Entry Hall. Finding his father standing waiting for them only served to heighten his tense nerves.

Grim faced, the older man directed Draco to leave his things where he had stepped from the floo and follow him to Mrs. Malfoy's private parlor where a small tea service had been laid out for the family. Sitting down when directed, Draco waited for an explanation about his parents' strange behavior. His father did not sit, but paced slowly in front of the fireplace, appearing to Draco as if he were standing guard against whatever might come through the flames. As he turned to look at his son, Draco noticed that the man appeared to have aged years since he had seen him at Easter and he moved in such a way that hinted at some kind of injury, perhaps only partially healed.

"Your mother and I have some very serious and very sensitive things to discuss with you, Draco," His father began haltingly. "I'm sure you have heard the rumors that have been circulating since the end of the Tournament this spring. You need to understand the truth about what has happened as well as how these events could affect us as a family."

His mother picked up the explanation, "The Dark Lord has indeed returned and he has called your father to return to him. He was quite…quite displeased with what he called Lucius' lack of 'faithful service' while the Dark Lord was gone. He has already suffered punishment for this," At that Draco glanced sharply at his father but his mother simply continued, looking as close to desperate tears as he had ever seen her. "We have never explained the details of your father's involvement with the Dark Lord from before. We tried to keep that part of our lives separate from you, Dragon." The use of his childhood nickname indicated to Draco, more than any other part of the discussion to that point, the level of his mother's distress. She had not used the name for him since before he left for Hogwarts when he decided he was too old for such babyish treatment.

"You need to understand; things before had gotten so far out of hand," his father explained in a hushed tone, as if even here in this most protected and private space someone might overhear and punish. "We were _relieved_ when the Potter brat was able to do what we had believed impossible. It is not that we disagree with the primary philosophies with which the Dark Lord began his campaign. The bloodlines should be secured, and I would be more than happy if muggleborns and even blood traitors took themselves off to the muggle world and left the rest of us in peace. You know all of this." At Draco's nod he continued. "The conflict for us started as He began to gain more control. It seemed that the more powerful He grew, the more evident His madness became. A few of us who were higher up in His ranks observed that this madness coincided with specific secret events which seemed to have drained His energy temporarily. We still don't know what happened at these times but each time it happened more destruction was caused, more death dealt."

At this point the elder Malfoy stood facing the hearth, head bowed, leaning with his hands spread on the mantelpiece. His eyes were closed tight as if he were trying to rid his mind of some disturbing memory. His wife stood and went to him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. She carried on the explanation they were trying to give, granting her husband a reprieve from talking about the things that haunted him.

"By the time that the Dark Lord declared his intention to target the Potter child, your father was looking desperately for a way out. He had joined the Death Eaters as a loyal follower back when their stance had been social reform, not murder, when he was little older than you are now. As he said, we agreed with the initial ideals that the Dark Lord advocated. It was the means he used to achieve his ends and the ever-increasing extremism that we could neither understand nor condone. The problem was-" she trailed off.

"The problem was," his father continued in a much stronger, though more agitated voice than before, "that once you enter _His_ service, you do not simply resign. I had seen someone attempt that before, when they, like your mother and I, began to see what the whole situation under the Dark Lord's rule had become and could yet turn into. Your mother's cousin, Regulus, had joined around the same time as I did. He was faster to understand what was happening, what could happen, and he tried to leave. Apparently, there was some of the same rebellious streak running through him as through that brother of his. Once he figured out how the Dark Lord felt about deserters the boy became almost Gryffindorish in his defiance. Up to the end, even under torture inflicted by the Dark Lord himself, he refused to beg for pardon, not that it would have done any good."

Draco saw the pained look on his mother's face. He realized that the man whom he father spoke of with a mixture of respect and pity had likely grown up with his mother and possibly his father. He wondered if watching or hearing about his death had been to his parents what it would feel like to him if such a thing were to be done to Blaise. The image made him nearly sick and he remembered his thoughts on the form a boggart would take in his presence.

"Having watched what happened to Reg, your father knew he could not attempt to leave _his_ service," his mother continued in a strained voice, looking as if she were pleading with him to understand. "Reg had attempted to leave only months after you were born. While he had no one left for the Dark Lord to retaliate against for his 'treason,' your father had to protect all three of us. He wanted out but first had to find a way for us to be safe."

Draco's mind was reeling. There had been several times in the past when he had wondered how all of the pieces of his father's story fit together. He had heard the public speculation concerning his father's true loyalty and knew that it had been a very close thing that he even stayed out of Azkaban at the Dark Lord's fall. In contrast to those views he had heard both of his parents make statements over the years that had somehow contrasted with the idea that they had been quite so supportive of "their Lord" as many supposed. To know that it was only fear of what might have been done to his mother and himself that kept his father in the Dark Lord's service only enforced the understanding that his father honestly would do anything to keep those few important people in his life from harm.

"I was nearly in despair of ever getting away," Draco's father admitted in almost a whisper. "I went so far as to contemplate getting myself killed off on assignment so that your mother, in mourning, could have taken you and gone to live with relatives in France without question or officially deserting the cause." At the look of horror on his mother's face which surly mirrored his own he assumed she had not been privy to this plan.

"Fortunately, due to his miscalculation on the night he sought out the Potters, it never came to that. He was gone, the child miraculously survived and the aftermath was dealt with. You were far too young to remember it, but I know you have heard that I barely managed to stay out of Azkaban. In the end, besides pleading coercion and manipulation, our Gringotts vaults – the ones the Ministry could track at least – were greatly depleted in order to avoid such a fate. While some might feel that I lied to maintain my freedom, I think you can understand the fact that it was true. Even though he might not have said the words, your life and your mother's were always leverage which the Dark Lord held over my head," Draco's father finished grimly.

A lull followed his parents' story during which Draco attempted to put in order all of the new information he had just received. Things now made sense concerning his parents' motivations, beliefs and actions where before there had been holes and missing pieces. The picture he was presented with, however, was anything but comforting. If everything they had just said was true, and he had no reason to doubt them, it meant that the fear and…and slavery, that was the only word he could think of to describe what his father had portrayed, had suddenly and terribly returned to take control of their lives.

"What does this mean for us now? What are we going to do? What can I do?" he asked, doing his best to keep the fear out of his voice. He needed to be strong, especially for his mother who looked so lost and frightened having heard the lengths to which her husband had considered going to free the two of them. This time Draco decided that he was not going to be leverage, as his father had put it. Not if he could help it. He was his father's son, he had learned his lessons well, and he would do whatever it took to see that his family came out of this nightmare alive.

His father's face looked grave as he considered the best options for protecting them all. It had always been apparent that his father, more so than his mother, had been put in Slytherin for a reason. While his mother possessed various qualities associated with their house at Hogwarts, her placement had been as much about family association and upbringing as it had any natural, innate characteristics. His father, on the other hand, embodied Slytherin. He was cunning and resourceful, ambitious and determined, intelligent and a natural leader. Possibly the most Slytherin quality he possessed, however, was also the one that most outsiders misunderstood to the greatest degree. When others claimed that a Slytherins' strongest trait is that of self-preservation, they often overlook what that truly entails.

It is true that at times this could present as entirely selfish and egocentric in more mundane matters. At the same time, that view ignores a situation in which the people for whom a true Slytherin cares the most are threatened in any way. When a person is able to take some of the strongest characteristics from all of the other houses – intelligence, determination, and the ability to lead – and put that towards a goal of protecting loved ones, the outcome can often be far beyond what others could accomplish. For, while his father had already admitted his willingness to die for his family, an act that even the staunchest of Gryffindors could understand, he had also demonstrated his willingness to kill for them if that was what it took to keep them safe. Though some would argue that this was the wrong way to go about it, Draco knew he would not willingly choose differently. As backward as some might consider it to be, the fact remained that if his father had given his life for them before, there would have been no one left to care for his family now. In someone like the Dark Lord, who thought of no one but himself, it was true that this could be an ignoble attribute. On the contrary, in a person like Lucius Malfoy, who cared deeply for a few, this could be both powerful and dangerous to anyone who threatened who and what was his.

After a few moments to consider Draco's questions his father turned to face them with a look of resolve on his face. "We will carry on as expected by our Lord," he replied, his gaze steadily meeting their looks of surprise.

"Lucius, he will want Draco soon! We can't-" his mother's nearly panicked voice was cut off by his father's steady one.

"We carry on as expected, but carefully, planning every move before it happens. We will take precautions to prevent Draco from coming to our Lord's notice if at all possible." He turned to look at his son. "He should have little interest in you for some time, underage and with my service representing our family. In the case that our caution is not enough, I think that some time spent with Severus could be most beneficial."

"Occlumency!" his mother exclaimed, looking hopeful for the first time since the conversation had begun.

"Indeed," his father agreed, "Severus has the strongest mind I have ever encountered. He is one of my oldest friends and cares for Draco like a nephew. He is interested in Draco's wellbeing, a capable teacher and unlikely to do something that will cause Draco harm should something in his thoughts reveal…damaging information while he is still learning. I do not think that you need to begin this study just yet," he assured with a look at his son. "It is a taxing study during the best of circumstances. As things stand, I think it best that you spend this summer either close to home or with Blaise. The two of you can watch each other's backs well enough for the time being. I will speak with Severus and arrange for you to spend some extra time with him next summer. You have always been exceptional in Potions, have you not? Yes," he drawled out with a smirking smile that was often mirrored in his son's expression, "I see no reason for you to waste that talent when we have such a superb Potions Master as a close personal friend. It will be the perfect reason for you to spend some extra time with him on a regular basis without raising any troubling questions."

Draco nearly sighed in relief. He had been concerned about the chance of someone plucking information from his mind that would not only hurt him, but also his parents, Blaise, even Sprite. That last name brought about a whole separate round of concerns but he pushed that aside for the moment. At the same time, he knew Occlumency to be particularly difficult. Taxing both physically and mentally to learn. It was a relief to have some time before he needed to begin training. He also agreed with his father that it would be far better for him to learn it over next summer when he could devote his full attention to the study rather than try and squeeze it in between Quidditch practice and O.W.L.s revision.

"And school?" he wanted to be prepared for whatever plan his father was working out.

"You will continue as you have thus far. Act as if nothing has changed, as if you have nothing to fear. If in the presence of those who are loyal, especially those outspokenly so, convey your own stance of support. At the same time, I would wish for you to not bring undue attention to yourself. Play the part of the stereotypical Slytherin, and one of your social standing. All the while, keep your head down and your guard up. And Draco," he paused, an almost stern expression on his face, "you must control your temper. Do not let it cause you to be put in a vulnerable position." Then his face softened somewhat.

"I will speak to Severus concerning this and will keep you informed of pertinent information as the need arises." This last was spoken with a nod of assurance that helped Draco feel as though his father was still in some control of the situation, regardless of how little the facts might support that feeling. He nodded back and stood as his father reached out to pull him in a firm hug.

"Despite all of this," Draco heard his father say softly, "it is good to have you home, Dragon."

For the second time in the conversation, Draco realized he did not mind if his parents still called him by his childhood name.

* * *

**AN: So there you have the Malfoy's story. What do you think about their side of things? Does any of this vindicate Lucius' actions from the first war? Especially considering that he had to watch what happened to Regulus Black when he tried to get out. What about now? Does this give them a valid reason (not an excuse, but at least a reason) to act the way they do? I would love to hear your thoughts.**

**Sorry this is a little late being published. I have been sick, my 8-month-old sidekick has been sick and my awesome husband (who would normally be helping take care of us puny invalids) has been working night shifts. Hopefully, this week's chapter will be up on time. **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 –

When the end of August rolled around, Ginevra had become so anxious over the things that had been happening that summer that the beginning of school was a relief. While she did not care for Harry the way that some of her family both assumed and hoped she did, she still cared for him as her brother's best friend. She had been shaken when she heard about the episode with the dementor.

After that, she had spent the rest of the summer waging war against Sirius' house in an attempt to make it livable again. While this meant that there were times that her full concentration was required to fight off the various pests and enchanted items they found, it also left plenty of time to think. The sight of the Black Family Tapestry which had brought Draco to mind had added yet another worry for Ginevra to deal with. Every time some new shadowing of the trouble was alluded to concerning Tom's return she wondered how it was all affecting Draco and his family and whether or not they were alright.

Then, as if to mock Ginevra's hopes of some peace while at school, they had all stepped off the train and entered a Hogwarts manipulated by the awful toad, Umbridge. It had been clear from very early on that their safe haven was being interfered with and, as the year went on, transformed into a punishment at best, a danger at worst. The main highlight of the whole situation was the establishment of Dumbledore's Army. It was a brilliant way to both make up for the pathetic excuse for a Defense class and pull one over on Umbridge at the same time. Despite the fun and excitement they had been enjoying with the DA, the quidditch match she had just witnessed, or rather its aftermath, had left her feeling somewhat less than amused.

As she had walked down the corridor towards Gryffindor tower following the match, passersby would not have been surprised to find steam billowing out of Ginevra's ears. The look on her face combined with the way her hair seemed to whip and flash around her showed just how furious she was at that particular moment. _Boys_, she thought. _Why can't they just control themselves?_

After several months of various forms of stress building up, this newest addition was simply too much. The display on the field after the game – from Crabbe's foul to Draco's taunting as well as Fred, George and Harry's attack in response – had all combined to finally light and reduce her normally long fuse by alarming proportions. She simply did not understand what they all thought they were doing. While she usually did not join in on her brothers' and Harry's "ferret bashing" as the twins so humorously called it, this time she was truly annoyed at Draco's juvenile demonstration of exactly how to be an exceptionally sore loser. At the same time, she was also furious at the twins and Harry for being stupid enough to fall for the blond boy's attempts at riling them up. Though over the past few years she had been concerned whenever the Lightning Boy was hurt or her brothers and friends got into trouble, in this particular case she thought that whatever happened to any of them was fully earned and warranted.

It had taken her a few days since then to really calm down enough to refrain from shooting any of those involved dirty glances. They had been lucky that she was attempting to keep herself out of trouble since she had replaced Harry on the team. It kept her from extracting some form of grand revenge on them all, simply because they had gotten her so annoyed at the whole situation. Instead she mainly took out her frustrations by channeling it into practice with the DA and on the pitch.

Things seemed to quiet down after the Great Quidditch Debacle, as Ginevra had begun calling it in her head. Though Umbridge's interference in daily life at Hogwarts was unpleasant, most everyone found ways to work around it. Life went on for Ginevra, with classes and quidditch and DA practice as the Christmas holidays steadily approached. It was not until a few days before they were set to leave that real disaster struck.

Having been woken in the night by Professor McGonagall and lead to the Headmaster's office, Ginevra and the twins learned that their father had been attacked somehow while on duty for the Order. With very little information, only knowing that they needed to get out before Umbridge made things more difficult, the three siblings along with Ron and Harry were sent whirling to Grimmauld Place. While she understood Sirius' reasoning for not allowing them all to charge down to the hospital to see their father the minute they arrived, she also felt the twins' frustration at being kept there so helplessly until they were contacted by their mother.

When finally their mother came for them, it took some quiet persuasion on her part to keep the twins from demanding that they visit St. Mungo's immediately.

"Mum doesn't need an argument with you two on top of everything," she pointed out in a hurried whisper. "Look at her! She hasn't slept all night, she's exhausted. She wouldn't have left dad if he were still in danger so we know he's as ok as he's going to be for the time being." They begrudgingly relented and the three of them made their way up the stairs to rest.

At the landing where the twins' room was located, Ginevra hesitated, not really wanting to go up alone to the room she had shared with Hermione but not wanting to intrude on anyone else. Noticing her uncertainty, Fred gave a nod of his head towards the twins' room and George wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. She was grateful, not for the first time, for the way that the twins had seemed to take it as their joint duty to watch out for her since the near-disaster of the Diary and the Chamber in her first year. They were not, thankfully, overbearing like Ron could be or bossy like Percy. Though very different in general from her two oldest brothers, Bill and Charley, in this way they were the most like the two older men when it came to their baby sister. They were simply watchful, making sure that the times when she needed a little extra support she had it. It had made her appreciate these brothers, the jokesters, the troublemakers, the pair that most people overlooked when it came to anything of a serious nature. She had learned how very narrow this view of them was and was grateful, once again, that she got to have them as big brothers.

They walked into the room where Fred started a fire in the hearth and George conjured up an extra bed in front of it for Ginevra. Sometimes they could be ridiculous with their newly allowed use of magic out of school, but others they could be dead useful.

"Mind, that bed might only last for a few hours so if you end up staying in here tonight we might want to look into just bringing yours down from your room. Shrink it or something," George mumbled as he fell into his own bed across from Fred's, who was already falling asleep on his. Ginevra nodded and curled up facing the fire, enjoying its warmth and falling into a steady doze.

After a few hours of rest and then a quick lunch, the family went down to visit their dad. It was good to see him looking so well after having been so very worried about him all night. Though they knew he still had a ways to go, he was clearly out of the worst of the danger.

They stayed for a while, visiting him in groups so as not to wear him out too much with large numbers all at once. First Ron and Harry had joined their mum back in the ward while Ginevra, George and Fred waited outside. Then they switched so that their mum could speak with the healers. As the three approached the bed, their father chucked at the still clearly hesitant expressions on their faces.

"I really am alright, you three," he assured with a smile. "You all look like you've been out there planning my funeral."

"We didn't know if we would be or not, Dad!" George finally burst as Ginevra had been waiting for him to do since the night before. He was not yelling, but clearly was extremely stressed. "We didn't know what was going on and Sirius wouldn't let us come down to find out!" It was times like this when the subtle differences between the twins could truly be appreciated. Most people, including their own family, tended to lump the two together, seeing them almost as one larger-than-life person. However, when one took the time to look, they could see that they were unique, despite their many similarities.

Fred was the instigator; probably the louder one of the two, if that was actually possible. While his twin was almost always game for anything he purposed, Fred was the one that more often started things happening and pushed them further once they got going. He was more like Ron in his explosive bouts of emotion or reaction; easily goaded into things regardless of how difficult it might be to get out again.

George, on the other hand, was the more thoughtful of the two, the planner. He was the reason that the majority of Fred's brilliant, extravagant ideas were able to come into existence, especially the ones they managed to pull off with little collateral damage. The exception to this was, of course, when destruction was the main idea. It was due to this more calculating element of George's nature, Ginevra though, that he tended to be more protective of his family. He thought through things and realized that there were certain dangers in life that could in fact harm those he loved. While Fred would react to a threat, George saw the dangers before they happened and worked to prevent them. When he could not, due either lack of foresight, ability or circumstance, it disturbed him deeply. It was because of this that Ginevra was not surprised by how visibly upset George was by the present situation.

"Sirius was right to keep you away," their dad soothed. "With the whole state of affairs being how they are, a violent attack in the Ministry itself on someone who technically shouldn't have been where he was at the time, Harry's having seen it happen, you all having been at Hogwarts, it's best to keep things from looking any more unusual. You lot rushing down here before your mother could even arrive would have attracted even more unwanted attention."

"That's another thing that's been bothering us, dad," Fred said nervously. "Harry."

"What do you mean, 'Harry'?" Mr. Weasley asked, looking wary. "If it hadn't been for him…"

"How did he know? What's going on with him? The look on his face last night was strange, almost frightening. Earlier we heard what Moody-" Fred broke off midsentence realizing that he had admitted to eavesdropping. His guilty look was met with his dad's chuckle and a smirk from Ginevra. She was always amused when her brothers ended up telling on themselves.

"What you heard was, first off, not any of your business," their dad scolded lightly, though he still had a small smile on his face. "Second, I disagree with what Alastor's assumption that Harry is being possessed."

At that, Ginevra made a small noise. They glanced at her and she mumbled in a small voice, "I think dad's right. I don't think he's being possessed." She looked up at their surprised faces. It was rare for her to speak about her time with Tom, even in a roundabout manor. "For one, he's too aware. He's also able to remember things and do something about it. When I…if it were the same as…he wouldn't be able to do anything against what You-Know-Who wanted, even when he was 'awake.'" While she hated thinking about that time she did not want someone to be accused of something like that when she was fairly sure it was not true.

George wrapped an arm around her and Fred nudged her arm, giving her a small side smile. Her dad smiled at her gently as he answered what she had said. "Gin Bug is right, Fred. While there's not a lot of hard research on the subject, this seems to be somewhat different from a normal possession. That is if there actually is such a qualification as 'normal' for something like that," he said with a dark look on his face. "Either way though, I just want you to remember who we are really fighting. It is not Harry. Even if he were possessed and did something wrong, he would still not be the one who was our enemy. He would only be another victim if that happened. You can't blame a person when they are forced to do something against their will." He shook his head. "Did you not see how he looked when he came in here? As if it was his fault that I got hurt while doing my job. I just want to make sure you keep that in mind. Be on guard for the real monster here, not one made up in your head."

Both of the twins nodded, looking somewhat abashed for their earlier insinuations. After that, the visit consisted mostly of their fairly successful attempts to lighten the mood in the otherwise bland ward. It was not long before the others returned to say their goodbyes for the day. Though he was not back yet, Bill had stayed earlier while their mum had come to Grimmauld Place to collect them and would return later that evening. Also, just before they headed home for the day, they even received a rather spectacular message from Charlie in Romania.

As they collected hats and coats to fend off the December chill, a shimmering silver form appeared in the space at the foot of Mr. Weasley's bed. The form solidified into a beautiful dragon that flexed its wings and looked up at them. Ginevra recognized it immediately as Charlie's Patronus, a Ukrainian Ironbelly. It was a miniature of course – the full sized ones were often as big as a cottage – but still exquisite. The dragon Patronus opened his mouth and Charlie's booming voice came out.

"Hi all! Well, I'm assuming there's someone else there with dad," that second sentence came out more mumbled than the first, causing a round of chuckles. "If not, hi dad! Bill contacted me and let me know what's happened. I'm trying to get home for a few days but because dad got hurt inside the Ministry itself, they are being very difficult as far as international floo transport today. I can't apparate just now. I got a little burned at work yesterday-"

"Oh, poor dear!" interjected his mum.

"-but I'm completely ok, mum. I just think that the on-sight healer is being overly cautious but either way, I'm not cleared for apparation 'til Monday," Charlie continued, sounding slightly irritated, though perfectly healthy. "I'm hoping that by sending this via Patronus instead of owl it might help send some happy feelings your way along with the well-wishes."

"What a thoughtful boy!" Ginevra heard her mum again.

"Feel better dad! Love you all!" came the end of Charlie's message. The dragon opened its mouth one last time and breathed a shimmery mist of flame in their direction. Rather than feeling heat, they each felt a gentle lightening feeling of joy wash over them. The dragon looked around one last time before vanishing before their eyes.

"Such a sweet boy, and such a powerful bit of magic to be able to affect us with the flame," gushed Mrs. Weasley. There was a general agreement to this statement. The Patronus Charm was complex magic on its own. To be able to conjure it so powerfully that not only dementors felt the effects but humans as well was quite impressive. After that pleasant ending to the visit, a much more cheerful group left the hospital than had entered it a few hours before.

On the way home, Ginevra thought about what her father had said concerning Tom and his control of others. It had never really occurred to her that others might be forced, as she had, to serve Tom against their will. While she was in complete agreement with her father concerning possession – it had been entirely beyond her control to stop Tom and she therefore understood it would be the same with anyone else – it was not until recently that she considered that others might be in a similar situation. Her mind flashed with an image of blond hair and silver-grey eyes. She had known for years that Mr. Malfoy had been compelled by the need to protect Draco to give the diary to someone else. She had just been a convenient target. She wondered if that was any indication of the Malfoys' motivation to serve Tom in general, not only in reference to the diary. For some reason, she both hoped and feared that that was the case. She hoped that it was because she did not want the Lightning Boy to choose Tom. At the same time she hoped not, because that would mean that Tom was forcing them to serve him with no real way out.

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**AN: So there you have the beginning of Ginevra's Christmas holidays. The "Great Quidditch Debacle" was when Harry and the Twins got kicked off the team in book 5, if anyone was a little fuzzy on that. The conversation between Mr. Weasley, Ginevra, Fred and George takes place while Ron and Harry discover Neville's parents in the permanent ward. I am trying very hard to stick to my plan of not rehashing the books. I'm working under the assumption that readers are familiar with the books' timeline. Feel free to PM me if you are confused about something. **

**I did make up the theory that a powerful enough Patronus charm could effect humans as well as dementors. It seemed logical if they can interact enough to carry messages and their main function is project a shield of happiness that the two aspects combined could have my suggested effect. Let me know what you think.**

**The description of the Twins was not entirely of my making. I got the idea from an essay about them on T****_he Harry Potter Companion._**** Having spent four years of college earning a degree in English Language and Literature, I feel compelled to include a citation to this article. Unfortunately, this website will not let me include the URL so that is being left out of the citation. If you wish to read it, just Google the title.**

**Kearns, John. "Essay: Not Just Fredandgeorge - The Twins' Differences." ****_The Harry Potter Companion_****. The Harry Potter Companion, 1 Oct. 2009. Web. 7 July 2014.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 –

Christmas had been even more stressful for Draco and his family than the summer had. While his father was luckily not sporting any recent injuries inflicted by the Dark Lord as he had the last time Draco had arrived home, there was a definite air of wariness and exhaustion in his father's manner. The house was decorated for the holidays as usual but the festive spirit was largely lost between the regular summons Lucius received to hurry to the Dark Lord's side at all hours of the day or night. It was apparent, Draco had heard his father express to his mother quietly one evening, that the Dark Lord was both frustrated and amused at the events which had taken place just before Draco had arrived home. He was displeased at his serpent's failure to fulfill his mission but also entertained by the unplanned attack on "that ridiculous blood-traitor" as he put it.

Draco was able to piece together from other overheard conversations that it had been Sprite's father who had been attacked. He was not sure exactly how he felt about the whole situation. While he was glad that the Dark Lord was amused by the attack, resulting in a better mood and fewer bouts of temper in general, he was concerned about Sprite. Normally he could not have cared less about an attack on someone else, especially someone related to the annoying He Weasel, in the midst of his concern for his own family. But he worried about how she would be affected by it, especially around Christmas. He had hoped for Sprite's sake that her father had a speedy recovery.

For the first time in his life, Draco was happy when Christmas was over. It had been a relief to arrive safely back at school, to be away from the stress and unease that permeated his home. The first day of classes went by uneventfully and he was grateful for the feeling of normalcy. That feeling, however, was shattered with the arrival of the mail on just the second morning back. Draco had been reaching for his orange juice when his mother's barred owl, looking like a little hooded person, landed next to his hand. He had not been expecting a message from home so soon, and it was with building unease that he reached for the letter. Giving the owl a bit of bacon and an affectionate pat, he broke his mother's personal seal and read the letter.

_Draco Dearest,_

_I simply wanted to write and remind you of our conversation concerning your O.W.L. study this spring._

At this Draco's brow knit in confusion. He was sure that his mother and he had not spoken of O.W.L.s other than for her to wish him luck in his preparation for them at the train station. His usually excellent marks in school generally caused his parents to leave his studies to himself, without the need for prodding. He continued reading.

_I know that you were wishing to come home for the Easter holidays but I feel that I must reiterate that it would be more beneficial for you to stay and study instead. I will make sure to send you something to make being away from home over a holiday more pleasant._

_Much Love,_

_Mother_

_P.S. Be sure to keep in mind everything your father instructed concerning this subject your first afternoon home this summer._

His heart pounded as he read the last line and the confusion he had been feeling melted into dread. Something had happened. The only conversation she could be referencing in her post script had been the one where his parents had explained their true feelings concerning the Dark Lord. Because Lucius had been called away by his Mark shortly after, Draco had not had a chance to speak with him for a day after that conversation. His mother was reminding him of his father's instructions to blend in and maintain his facade of being a good little Death Eater in training for the time being. The style of his mother's writing – so formal and cold, not to mention so soon after the start of term – also indicated that there was something wrong. He almost had the feeling that she might have been watched as she wrote him this rather cryptic message. At the thought of that he felt himself almost panic. Who could have been watching his mother so closely that she was unable to write him a short letter without resorting to hidden meanings?

As he sat back to contemplate this latest worry, Draco looked around the Great Hall and noticed several clusters of students huddled around what looked like the morning addition of the Daily Prophet. At the barely concealed smug grins on the faces of a few of his housemates and the nervous murmuring coming from the rest of the students, his heart stuttered in dread at what might have caused this new tumult. Just then, Blaise sat down next to him and, seemingly by chance, laid out his copy of the morning's newspaper on the table where Draco could clearly read it. Catching his friend's eye in a concerned glance, he turned to read what had apparently captured everyone else's attention that morning.

MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

Ministry Fears Black is "Rallying Point"

For Old Death Eaters[1]

It took Blaise nudging him in the arm for him to get his facial features back under his steady control. He was sure that had anyone glanced at him, and he dearly hoped that no one had, when he first read that headline they would have seen his mouth hanging open in a most undignified manner. They might also have been able to detect the traces of panic that were now coursing through him. This headline coinciding with his mother's letter could not be coincidence. As he read on, this suspicion was confirmed. At the name Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco knew that his mother wanted to keep him far away from home for as long as she could.

He had heard stories of this aunt. While she was lauded among the Dark Lord's followers as one of the most faithful, others told a different story. Just the caption under her photograph stating that she was responsible for the "torture and permanent incapacitation" of two Aurors who he now suspected to be Longbottom's parents was enough to give some idea of the nature of this aunt's character. His mother's sister. He could hardly imagine someone who had grown up alongside his mother being so frightening, so cruel, so very different from everything he saw his own mother to be. He was grateful that his parents were apparently just as reluctant to have him around Bellatrix as he was to be there himself. At the same time, he was also nervous of leaving his mother, who he knew would be expected to welcome his aunt and be close to her, in such a situation. Especially as his uncles, Bellatrix's husband and brother-in-law, would likely be with them as well.

To distract himself from his worry over his parents – he reminded himself that they were as capable as anyone of taking care of themselves – he perused the rest of the article. It almost amused him that the Ministry was trying to blame Sirius Black for this latest breakout. Had the dementors not hunted for him after his escape? It seemed illogical that they would suddenly have sided with him enough to release more of their charges to him. And if they had not done so willingly, it would have been ludicrous for Black to return to even the general vicinity of Azkaban, considering the risk of recapture it would present to him. And how, Draco wondered, would Black be able to return undetected to both free and hide ten more of his supposed cohorts, many of whom are reportedly mad. Even if Draco had not possessed particular information concerning his mother's cousins, he did not think that he would believe the load of rubbish the Ministry was attempting to convince the country of.

Beyond that, he had noticed over Christmas that Sirius Black's name was never mentioned among those who had returned to the Dark Lord's service. A startling question entered his mind. Had Sirius Black ever actually been a secret Death Eater, as was generally assumed? Draco was not sure how this question fit into the frame of the murders that the man had been convicted of. Though considering the Ministry's propaganda concerning resent events, he was not putting it past them to either be lying or simply blind in this area as well. After his parents' account of Sirius' brother, Regulus, and his defiance of the Dark Lord, Draco was unsure how to understand this new light into which part of his family had been thrust.

"You alright, Drake?" Blaise inquired softly next to him. Draco was concerned at first that Blaise would ask him such an honest question so casually there in the middle of the Great Hall. His head jerked up from where he had been staring unseeing at the paper before him to glance sharply at his friend. It was not until he noticed the slight shimmering in the air around them, almost appearing like a heat haze one might see dancing along the ground on a hot day, that he realized Blaise had cast a protective spell allowing them to speak freely.

"I'm not sure. Mother sent me a letter more or less telling me to stay away from home and keep my head down for as long as I could. She sounds nervous," Draco explained without hesitation, handing Blaise the parchment from home. If he could trust anyone in the world besides his parents, it was Blaise. "Honestly, I am too. I told you over Christmas some of what mother and father explained about the whole situation with the Dark Lord having returned. I guess I'm just waiting for something to happen. I don't want to be forced into anything…" he trailed off.

"But there are a few things he could easily do to force your hand," finished Blaise grimly, looking up from the letter he had glanced over. This was one of the reasons Draco appreciated his friend. While most interaction among their house involved delicate and often duplicitous maneuvering through conversations, it was different with the two of them. When they were alone their conversations were frank, honest and often times fairly intuitive. They had been best friends since early childhood and close enough that they could often guess the other's thoughts or feelings on any given subject.

Blaise understood, unlike the majority of the people Draco had ever encountered, Draco's loyalty and protectiveness towards his family, Blaise included. He understood that the Dark Lord held a kind of power and threat over Draco and his father that he need not even mention aloud to maintain them as his loyal slaves. As long as his parents and Blaise were vulnerable to the Dark Lord's whims Draco would be subject to his control. Blaise was sure after speaking with Draco during the holidays that it would indeed be slavery. Having heard his parents' explanation of their feelings, as well as the story of his mother's cousin, Draco had made it fairly obvious that he would not willingly follow of his own accord. Both Slytherins just hoped that they would not be forced into that situation.

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[1](Rowling, J.K. _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. 544)

* * *

**AN: Let me begin by apologizing for my tardiness in publishing this chapter. Real life has been nutty. As penance, I am going to try to get another chapter up today or tomorrow (no promises, but I'm gonna try).**

**On to the good stuff! What do you think about Draco's reaction to the attack on Ginevra's dad? How would you feel if something you had no control over and helped protect your family, hurt someone else that you cared about? What do you think about Draco's thoughts as he works out his opinions on Sirius and Regulus Black? Let me know!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 –

When Ginevra had thought that the fall term was unpleasant with Umbridge's interference in the school, she had not realized how bad things could get. Between the new regulations, the awful Toad's efforts to sack various members of the staff and the unhappy end of the DA there were few bright moments throughout the spring. Admittedly, the twins' efforts did bring a great deal of amusement to the frustration that school had become. Their departure had made her both sad and determined to do her best to keep up their torment of the new headmistress. She was glad for them, though, that they were finally able to make a start on their goal of opening a shop and wished them well in doing so.

Other than the mayhem caused by her brothers' last few weeks at Hogwarts and their spectacular departure, there was an additional surprise added to an already head-spinning year. When Ginevra heard about the newly established Inquisitorial Squad she had not quite known what to make of the whole situation. However, upon experiencing her first run-in with the new organization she was even more confused.

The day after the DA had been discovered and Dumbledore had fled the school, she had been cornered in the hall by Graham Montague. He had attempted to rile her up, knocking her books to the floor and taunting her about her family. Before she could retort, the twins had stepped in, expressing exactly how they felt about someone harassing their little sister. As Montague started spouting off about being a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, Fred opened the door to a cabinet in the hallway and grabbed the back of Montague's robes, hauling him backwards. George gave him a shove from the front and slammed the door closed once the Slytherin was inside. Once the commotion had quieted down, Ginevra noticed exactly which cabinet they had pushed the other boy into.

"Where will it send him?" she asked the twins, unsure if she should be worried or amused that they had just crammed a fellow student inside a Vanishing Cabinet, regardless of how nasty he generally was.

Fred grinned wickedly as George answered "Dunno. Doesn't really matter, he shouldn't have messed with you."

Ginevra smirked back at her brothers. Though she could have taken care of herself, this way it was done so that Gryffindor did not lose any points.

"Many thanks, brothers of mine" Ginevra sang as she turned to head to her next class. As she did, she noticed a quiet figure standing against the wall and watching as the siblings parted ways. She stopped short as she recognized Draco, wondering if he had seen what had happened. His expression was neutral as he stared at her. Then, silver eyes that had been focused on her glanced slowly at the cabinet and then to the exuberantly retreating figures of her brothers. As his eyes traveled back to hers, she knew that he had seen exactly what her brothers had done. She worried what would happen to the twins if the other boy decided to report them and if he would include her in their stunt, even though she had only watched as the twins defended her.

Before she could construct a plan to talk their way out of the situation, the silver-eyed Slytherin stepped forward and murmured so quietly she was almost sure she had misheard him.

"At least they're teaming up to pick on someone else rather than you this time, Sprite," he commented with a small smile. "Keep your head down and your eyes open for a while." With that, he walked away down the corridor leaving a nearly gaping girl in his wake.

She could only assume he was referring to the first time they had met, that day in Diagon Alley when Fred and George had stolen her doll from her. Though she had watched him steadily through the years, she was surprised that he remembered that day. It brought to the forefront of her mind the time when he had simply been the Lightning Boy to her. That night, she dreamed for the first time in over a year of the little blond haired, silver eyed boy. Only this time, he was not a little child anymore.

Since then Ginevra had tried to do what he had instructed – as much as the sister of Fred and George possibly could. She still joined in on wreaking havoc across the school in defiance of Umbridge, but she did try to do so in such a way that she was least likely to be caught in the act. She noticed that whenever there were others around, Draco would give her a hard time just as one might expect. However, unlike his treatment of Ron and his friends, who Draco seemed to take pleasure in goading, he did not seem to go out of his way to annoy her. He never appeared interested in docking points or causing her trouble whenever he could avoid it without it being noticed by others. As her brother, Harry and Hermione gave as good as they got from any Slytherin, his harassment of those three really did not bother her as much as one might have thought. In all honesty, as long as they all refrained from actual lasting damage of each other, she found their rivalry more amusing than anything else and went about her own business. She was not sure why Draco seemed to have singled her out in such a way, but was grateful for it, whatever the reason. In exchange, she did her best to leave him alone and not cause situations that would require his intervention.

This attempt at discretion ended the last evening of exams. Once released from the testing room, Ginevra and her friend Luna had decided to head down to the grounds and enjoy their first afternoon of freedom now that classes were truly at an end. They had almost reached the entrance hall leading to the grounds when they heard Harry's frustrated voice echoing from behind a door as they walked past. After hearing his explanation about Sirius having been taken by Tom and contriving their plan to use Umbridge's office, she and Luna hurried to complete their portion of the plan. While they stood watch Neville hurried up, having been sent by Ron as extra help and waited with them for Harry and Hermione to come back down. Everything seemed to be going well until Umbridge came barreling up the corridor with Ron and several members of the Inquisitorial Squad in tow.

As the repugnant headmistress raced towards them with surprising speed, she screeched out directions to the students following her.

"Grab these three as well! They're Harry Potter's lackeys and I want them brought up with the Weasley boy! Malfoy, Bulstrode, with me!" She ordered in her shrill, annoying voice.

Seeing that they were probably caught anyway, Ginevra attempted to alert her friends inside the office that they were about to be interrupted. She was hit with a silencio, prohibiting her from calling out to them. As Umbridge hurried past, Ginevra was grabbed at by one of the Inquisitorial Squad. Despite Neville's attempts to shove the bigger boy away from her, she was caught and all but dragged into the office along with her friends. Only after gagging her did another boy, Zabini she thought, remove the silencing charm from her. While the sight of her friends all either physically restrained or held at wandpoint worried her, she grew steadily more alarmed as Umbridge talked. It seemed as if the past few weeks of torment from the entire school might have actually set the woman off of her rocker completely.

As though they also had caught on to this fact, even a few members of the Inquisitorial Squad seemed to be growing slightly nervous as the interaction continued. Though they all chuckled and laughed along with Umbridge at the appropriate times, Ginevra noticed a few of them casting concerned glances at each other, their smiles becoming forced. From the corner of her eye she peeked at Draco. He seemed to feel her eyes on him and turned his head to stare at her. The look on his face seemed apprehensive, as if he was not quite sure what he should be doing in the current situation. Just then Umbridge ordered him to "fetch Professor Snape." He seemed to nearly sag with relief and turning to go, whispered something briefly to Zabini who nodded. Both Slytherins glanced her way as Draco hurried from the room. She was not sure whether she should be more or less concerned when he returned a few minutes later with Professor Snape.

The exchange between the two professors had certainly been enlightening. Ginevra was almost sure that Umbridge had lost it at that point. Veritaserum, indeed! The woman was crazy enough to not only to break the law by using something that potent on a student but had clearly attempted to use enough to poison one. As Snape left, Ginevra hoped that he had understood what Harry had been so desperately trying to tell him. She really did not know if he had, the man was so difficult to read. Regardless, she was somewhat dismayed when he walked out, leaving them to the Great Toad's mercy.

Though she was uneasy about the situation, Ginevra was shocked when she heard Hermione suggest that they confess to Umbridge what they had been doing. She soon realized, though, that the older girl was doing her best to play on the headmistress' paranoia and get them out of their present situation as quickly as possible. When the woman easily fell for the ruse and left the office with Harry and Hermione, Ginevra decided it was time to act. She hoped that she had been right in her estimation of Draco and his apparent concern about her. She supposed that the next few minutes would demonstrate just how interested in protecting her he really was.

She was hesitant to use the particular spells she had in mind on certain people in the room and tried to indicate with a nod of her head that Draco should leave as well. He seemed to understand and had attempted to convince Umbridge to allow him along, looking resignedly at her when he was assigned to stay. As the sounds of footsteps faded down the corridor Ginevra decided that it was time to do something. After a minute she succeeded in forcing the gag out of her mouth. With an apologetic glance in Draco's direction she began.

"So, Malfoy, I bet mummy and daddy are proud of you this year. Picking on little kids and snitching. I bet it's what they've always dreamed of in a son," she scoffed, sending him a fake glare.

He shot her a slightly confused look before recognition flashed across his face, quickly followed by a rather convincing glare and low growl of his own.

"I wouldn't be talking about making parents proud, Weaslette. Considering that Hogwarts is soon going to be a – how did her headship-" he said this with a sneer and roll of his eyes, "-put it? Oh yeah, 'a Weasley-free zone.' How are Mother and Father Weasel going to take that news?" He took a step closer to her. Nodding with a smirk to the sixth-year girl who had been holding her arms from behind to release the redhead, he pulled her sharply forward, causing her to stumble. "Maybe," he continued in a mocking voice, "I should teach you some respect for your betters before you go." As he finished he gave another harsh jerk on her arm.

As she stumbled into him, she felt where he was holding Harry's wand loosely in his hand. With a fleeting expression of gratitude and apology towards him, she grabbed at it and hit him with a spell. Her bat-bogey hex had become infamous in the Gryffindor tower once the twins had taught it to her. It was quite effective in expressing her displeasure towards anyone who got on her bad side, but it was not particularly damaging, merely unpleasant. She used it intentionally on Draco, removing him from the coming altercation. It both protected him from further injury and gave him an excuse, if he wished for one, not to join in a return assault.

With him out of the way and a wand on their side, the others quickly worked to get the better of the rest of their captors. Thinking quickly, she decided to take Draco's friend, Blaise, out of the situation as well by hitting him with a quick Petrificus Totalus. The boy seemed to be not only good friends with Draco but also likeminded in his attitude towards his Inquisitorial Squad duties. As she hurriedly followed the others out the door she quickly shot a "Finite" in Draco's direction to end the flurry of annoying pests from attacking him. She pulled the door shut behind her and secured it with a sticking charm, preventing anyone who might wish to from following them out to the grounds. Looking back later, she could only wish that the rest of the night had gone as well and as easily.

The whole situation at the Department of Mysteries had been a disaster from the beginning. If she had thought there was any way to talk Harry out of going she would have joined in with Hermione in attempting it. As it was, Ginevra was not about to let her brother go on an insane supposed-rescue-mission with only two others for backup. She still held firm to her belief that Harry was not being possessed. At the same time, it was clear to her that he was experiencing some form of connection between his mind and Tom's. She wondered how Tom might be manipulating that link. It turned out that her concerns had not been at all off the mark.

In the confrontation that occurred, things had happened so quickly that it nearly took Ginevra's breath away. Amidst the confusion of curses flying and shelves falling, their group somehow ended up separated. As one group of Death Eaters took off after Harry, Neville and Hermione the other, including Draco's father, chased after Ron, Luna and herself. During the fighting that followed Ginevra found herself on the floor with a broken ankle, having been hit with a stray curse, and a throbbing feeling in her head from hitting the floor. Through the pain, she watched as a blond headed, silver eyed man approached her alone from the dim light of the room.

"Draco?" she whispered confusedly, as her vision swam. Then, realizing who she was really looking at, she spoke again in a cautious voice. "Will you let me go, like your son did? He's helped me before, even when he didn't have to." Remembering her attempt to keep him out of the altercation in Umbridge's office that afternoon she added, "I've done the same for him as well."

The change in expression on the man's face was drastic. She realized as she watched him, that throughout the whole encounter, first with Harry and now with her, he did not look as she might have expected. Rather than angry or cruel he appeared almost desperate. When Harry had said Tom's name, he had barely seemed to notice, so focused was he on the glass ball in Harry's hand. It made her wonder why he was there. Oh, she understood what he was trying to get. But she wondered _why_. What made him so very desperate to follow this order from his master? Now, she watched as his face went from that look of harassed anxiety to confusion and then to a look of near pain all in a flash before being covered with the kind of emotionless mask she had seen so often when watching his son.

"You are Miss Weasley, I believe," he drawled in his silky-smooth tone. At her nod he continued, "I would've thought you'd have learned by now to stay away from situations involving the Dark Lord."

Her reply to this held no accusation; it was merely matter of fact in tone. "The last time I was 'involved' with him I had very little say in the matter, as you might remember," she returned calmly. At this, the guard he had kept on his face cracked once more for just a second and she saw what might have been remorse in someone else crumple his face, before it was wiped blank again. She continued on before he could respond. "I know, though, that you were in a similar situation to the one I faced when I opened the Chamber when you slipped the diary. Tom felt safe telling me all about his plans, including your part, when he thought I was going to die. I don't blame you for it. Never have. I know it was to keep Tom away from Draco." She settled a piercing look on him. "Is that why you're here tonight? For Draco?"

He simply stared at her with that unreadable expression on his face before he slowly began to back away. As he faded from view in the dim light and moved towards the room's side door she heard his voice echoing back to her. "Not that I believe you will heed sound advice if that red hair is any indication of your temperament," he drawled out. "But it would be wise to stay away from this pursuit. I have no taste for torturing and killing children but there are others among my…_associates_ who would love nothing better than to play with a blood-traitor's whelp," he warned, his tone that of a father offering a stern warning. "Despite my wishes, I most likely won't be able to avoid harming you a second time." With that he slipped through the door. It was only then that Ginevra noticed that the fighting around her had ceased while she had been wrapped up in her encounter with the elder Malfoy.

In the end, it really was not up to her whether or not she followed his advice. Before she and the others could escape they were cornered and attacked once again. They all fought desperately, but it did not matter. As she panicked watching the brain-thing attack her brother, she glanced off to her side and met the silvery eyes staring at her. She watched as the owner of those eyes raised his elm wand and shot a jolt of red light straight at her. The last thought that flashed through her head before she was knocked out was his voice saying _"I have no taste for torturing and killing children." _For that she was truly grateful.

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**AN: As promised, a second chapter to make up for being so behind in posting!**

**I really like this chapter. Does anyone notice the similarities between Lucius and Draco? The way they handle situations with Ginevra in particular. What do you think about that? Let me know!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 –

Following the headmistress into her office, Draco was actually rather pleased to find both Potter and Granger caught red handed. While he had been concerned and slightly annoyed to see that Sprite had been involved with this whole fiasco, he admitted to himself that he was not all that surprised by the fact. Up to that point she seemed to have taken his advice to heart as much as was apparently possible for a Gryffindor. He only wished that she had kept that up. Potter, on the other hand, he had no qualms with seeing in trouble. It was not until everyone was brought up and he watched Umbridge's behavior become more extreme and erratic by the minute that he began to be really concerned. He's relief had been acute when the fanatical woman had sent him to fetch Severus. With a whispered request to Blaise to keep an eye on Sprite until he returned he hurried out the door to hopefully find help.

On the short walk back to the Headmistress' office, he gave Severus a brief idea of what had taken place. The man had sneered and growled something that sounded like "bloody Gryffindors and their ridiculous stunts" but had lengthened his stride nonetheless. Draco knew that while the man certainly disliked some of the captive students, he would do what he could to prevent anything extreme from happening. Draco was also sure that this would particularly apply to the ones who tended to irritate him the least, probably Sprite and the Lovegood girl. Apparently, and to Draco's mild surprise, this also included Longbottom as Severus went out of his way to order Crabbe to lighten up his hold before he did serious harm. Draco was worried, however, when he noticed the slight change in the professor's demeanor when Potter started spouting nonsense about something called "Padfoot." He doubted that only someone who had grown up around the man would have had any idea that something was amiss. He was dismayed when Severus hurried out after that confusing exchange.

With his Head of House gone, along with the best hope he had of things being kept under control, his concern began to mount once again. It increased even more as Umbridge's grasp on reality appeared to be slipping away. When she began mentioning using the Cruciatus Curse, even where Potter was concerned, he did not know what to do. Fortunately, it appeared that Granger had some idea. He might not have been able to stand the girl but he had to admit, though grudgingly, that she was quick on her feet.

When he saw the reactions of the others in Potter's little group it was clear, at least to Draco, that something was up. When Sprite had gestured to him in the direction of the door, he attempted to follow her suggestion and talk a way out for him and Blaise. It became clear that this would not be possible and he resigned himself to whatever would happen. In all honesty, he was pleased that he was able to help the Sprite pull off her plan, even though he got hit with her less-than-pleasant curse. As long as it was in the name of defying the now clearly deranged Headmistress he had decided to just deal with the outcome. In the end, he was just glad that Sprite had taken both himself and Blaise out of the situation as best she could and then prevented the need to follow her little group of heroes by way of the sticking charm she had used on the door.

It was not until the next day that Draco learned some part of what had come of Potter's little rescue mission. He had been generally relieved along with the rest of the school's population to find that Umbridge had been carried off by Centaurs out in the forest, ending her pathetic sojourn as headmistress. He had no great love for Dumbledore, but felt that almost anyone, quite possibly even Peeves, would be better suited for the position than then now fully cracked Umbridge.

The announcement to the general public of the Dark Lord's returned had unsettled him. No one knew yet exactly what had happened for this to have been announced so formally. Only days before, the ministry's official stance on the subject had been that Potter and Dumbledore were insane to be claiming such things. Draco had obviously known that it was true mere days after it had happened, but that had not stopped him from amusing himself by taunting Potter with the Ministry party line. Now he was not sure what to make of the situation. By Saturday, reports began circulating amongst the other Slytherins that some mission for the Dark Lord on Thursday night had gone amiss, thanks to Potter and his cohorts. The fact that it had been that day that Potter and Company had been attempting something so desperate as to break in and use the crazy woman's floo made him wonder if there might be some credit to these stories. The growing feeling of foreboding proved to be accurate as Sunday rolled around.

Early that morning he received an owl from his mother. The animal had apparently been given instructions not to wait for the standard mail time at breakfast. It had been discovered swooping back and forth outside the common room door by a third year who had been heading out for an early morning fly. The younger boy had allowed the bird in and, upon seeing who the letter was addressed to and the bird's harried behavior, informed Draco in his room that he had a letter. Surprised and a little concerned at the unusual situation, Draco had retrieved the letter from the owl he recognized as his mother's. His concern transformed into dread and panic when he read the short note written not in his mother's usual elegant script but in a messy, hurried hand.

_Dragon,_

_I must explain a few things about this morning's addition of the Prophet. I hope that this letter reaches you before you read the paper yourself. If you already have, I am so sorry I could not contact you sooner. The past few days have been so challenging and I did not wish to worry you unnecessarily in the chance that our solicitor was able to straighten things out. _

At the mention of a solicitor, Draco's worry increased exponentially. He was especially nervous when he understood his mother's implication that the lawyer had not been able to help as she had hoped.

_ This morning's paper has now made waiting any longer not possible. In the hope that you have not read it yet, I will do my best to explain briefly what has been happening over the past few days. _

_Thursday night there was an altercation involving your father at the Ministry of Magic. Because of what is obviously a misunderstanding, your father was taken into Ministry custody and is being held until further notice. I will be waiting for you at the train platform when you arrive in a few days. Once home, I will explain further what has been happening. Until then, stay out of trouble and remember the conversation with your father from last Christmas._

_All my love, Dearest,_

_Mother_

Draco read the letter through a second time but still felt that he could not possibly have understood it correctly. His mother was telling him that father had been taken away. And that being so, their protector who had put himself between them and the dangers they were now surrounded by had been removed as well. In just a few seconds it clicked in his head that this must be related to Potter's apparent endeavors the previous Thursday. At this realization, the dread and fear he had been feeling melted away into rage.

Why was it that while Potter was the savior of the rest of the world, he always only seemed to cause trouble for Draco? In the back of his mind, Draco knew that this was in some way related to an order from the Dark Lord. He could think of no other reason for his father to have been involved with something having to do with Potter, especially on the night it was revealed that the Dark Lord had returned. Despite this fact, all of his anger was pointed directly at Gryffindor's Golden Boy. Perhaps it was due to the fact that he could not attack the Dark Lord for requiring some unknown action of his father. He was not sure, but that did not matter. Potter was here and he could and would do his best to make him pay for all of the trouble in which Draco's family now found themselves.

By that time, it was well into the morning and breakfast had started. He determined to attend the meal in the Great Hall and see if he could find out any more of what had happened in through the paper. As he was preparing to leave the dorm Blaise returned, apparently curious as to what had kept Draco so long. Seeing the stony expression on the blond boy's face and the now crumpled letter gripped in his fist Blaise indicated towards the parchment, asking permission to see what had so angered his friend. Without a word Draco passed the letter over. When Blaise finished reading, he looked up at Draco with a similarly dark look.

"Potter's little fieldtrip Thursday night?" Blaise asked. Draco just jerked a nod. "What are you going to do?" the darker boy asked warily. At Draco's noncommittal shrug of the shoulders and thunderous glare Blaise warned, "Draco, you can't just storm into breakfast and murder him. Dumbledore would stop you in a second and all that will have been accomplished would be to land you in Ministry custody right next to your father. Use your brain and bide your time," he admonished then continued in an undertone, "Remember who is really responsible for this!"

At that, the blond boy relaxed his stance somewhat and nodded with a look of frustration bordering on defeat crossing his face. He knew Blaise was right. He needed to control himself. He just sorely hoped that his path did not cross with the scar-faced git in the near future.

As it turned out, Draco did make it through most of the day without having to come any closer to Potter than a glimpse of him across the Great Hall. The whole disgusting display of half of the school's population lauding him as some kind of hero made his blood boil; all because it turned out that he was not insane and because he had not gotten himself killed last week. It was unfortunate, therefore, that the first time he came face to face with the Boy Wonder he had only just passed a group of blithering Hufflepuff idiots singing the Gryffindor's praises. Even as he knew he should walk away from the situation, he felt his temper get the better of him.

"You're dead, Potter,[1]" he said in a low voice. He did not care a great deal what smart retorts the other boy leveled at him until he had started in on Draco's father. At that point raw rage pulsed through him and he returned some foolish remark and reached for his wand. Later he realized that it was probably for the best that Severus had intervened as he did and stopped Potter and him from going at each other there in the Entrance Hall. At the moment, however, he was holding on to the last threads of his temper in order to not hex them both.

After the ensuing confrontation that had occurred with Professor McGonagall's return, one that had not improved his outlook on the day in the least, Severus turned to him. As the other professor walked away leaning heavily on her staff, the older man took him none too gently by the arm and pulled him towards the entrance to the Dungeons. As they made their way to the quarters reserved for Slytherin's head of house, Draco observed the carefully bored expression that he knew Severus used to prevent others from reading him.

They entered the sitting room and Draco was able to relax marginally at the familiar surroundings. While some might suppose that the underground location of these rooms would cause one to feel trapped or smothered, it only ever made Draco feel secure. The room was not elaborately furnished, but to him it was comfortable. Three of the walls were lined with bookcases overflowing with large leather-bound tomes. The fourth wall was primarily taken up by a large stone hearth. The entrance through which they had just come was on the wall to the left of the fireplace and faced the door to Severus' bedroom. A comfortable leather couch sat in front of the hearth flanked by two deep wingback chairs in a dark blue color. A desk and a high worktable covered in a potions master's tools were situated near the opposing book-covered wall. Altogether, the room was strongly reminiscent of Severus' drawing room at home and reminded Draco of the time he had spent there as a boy.

That feeling of relief, however, was short lived as he turned to face this Head of House. Once the door to the man's sitting room had been closed and warded, along with his fireplace, the indifferent mask on his professor's face fell and a look of disapproving concern could be seen.

"What, exactly, could you have possibly been thinking, Draco?" Severus drawled out in a tone the younger man remembered from his childhood. He had been caught messing about with some interesting – and dangerous – tools in the off-limits potions libratory at home and received a stern lecture as a result. At the abashed look on Draco's face his professor continued. "With everything that has happened the past few days, an impromptu dual in the Entrance Hall with Potter could only have ended badly. I should not have to tell you these kinds of things at your age. What do you think your mother would have to say about the idea alone?" he finished pointedly. The man had always known just what to say in order to have his point strike home.

"I'm sorry, Uncle," Draco said, unable to meet the man's eye. He found that in the stressful times of late, old habits were coming to the front. Just as his parents, particularly his mother, had taken to calling him by his old nickname, he addressed the older man by the old familial title he had not used in several years. Though it had honestly not been a ploy for sympathy, he was relieved to see the man's eyes soften at his use of the adopted name. After a moment Severus continued with a sigh.

"I understand that recent events have been very trying." Severus indicated for them to be seated on the plush leather couch before the fireplace. "Your mother wrote to me this morning detailing to me the contents of the letter she sent you. I have also been informed of the situation with your father following Thursday night's debacle. I, like Cissa, didn't say anything about it before in hopes that the situation might be cleared up before you arrived home and learned of it." He stopped and eyed the blond young man he loved as a nephew before continuing in a grave tone.

"This is certainly not the place to discuss details of what has been going on but I feel the need to warn you before you step off that train Friday into a situation over your head. Be very cautious, Draco, in everything you say and do from now on. There are those," here he looked meaningfully at the son of his closest friend, "who are greatly displeased with the outcome of Thursday evening. Lucius is in a very precarious situation at the moment."

Draco quickly understood to his rising horror that Severus was speaking of the Dark Lord. Apparently, whatever had happened a few nights ago to land his father in prison had drawn not only the Dark Lord's attention to him, but also his anger. The thought struck Draco that he was almost glad his father was locked away and at least temporarily out of the reach of the Dark Lord's wand. But just as quickly as that thought flashed through his mind, it was replaced with another.

"Mother!" he all but yelled, rising in a panic from his seat. He might have made for the fireplace in an attempt to floo home had Severus not placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, Draco." At the incredulous look he received, he hurried on to reassure the boy. "I would not be sitting here calmly with you having simply left her to harm. While you are right to imagine things are not as well as you or I would wish, she is not in eminent danger." He paused and then added in a very hushed tone, "Bellatrix is with her and still very much in favor. Your mother is well able to use that association to her – to all of your family's – best advantage."

Hearing that his mother was not alone or in danger of abuse at the present time, Draco sank back onto the couch. He leaned back and brought his hand to rub down his face. At his uncle's grim chuckle he looked up once again.

"You look so like Lucius when you do that," the dark man mused. "He was around your age when I first met him, and your mother. He took me under his wing, the little first year half-blood, sorted into a mostly pureblood house." Draco had heard the story before, but it was nice to feel like there was still a little bit of normalcy in his world and enjoyed the retelling. "At the time he said he was impressed with my repertoire of curses. I have since wondered, as I have come to know him as a true friend over the years, whether or not he simply took pity on me, lost as I was and trying not to show it. He's always been able to read people; it's one of his greatest strengths." He paused and looked at Draco.

"Speaking of reading people, Lucius discussed with me the prospect of working with you over the summer. Extra potions lessons with instruction in mental shields on the side? I had nearly forgotten in the midst of everything." His gaze turned penetrating and Draco dropped his eyes as he nodded. He had long ago grown accustomed to that particular stare but was still unable to meet it for long. "I did not ask him, nor will I ask you why you have need of such a barrier. I do, however, believe that it could become incredibly useful over the coming months. While I am sure Bella will wish to see much of her darling nephew," he eyed Draco meaningfully, "I regret to inform you that should we proceed with your potions tuition it will likely take place several days a week. Also, I will not be able to scamper to and from Malfoy Manor all summer, with my own brewing to accomplish and…other things to take care of. You will simply have to come to Spinner's End, over night at times, depending on the complexity and time requirements of whatever potion you are working on."

Draco released the breath he had not realized he had been holding. While still anxious about what he would soon be facing at home, he felt like a great weight had been lifted from him. When he had heard that his father had been taken away, he had believed that the only protection he and his mother had in the face of their current predicament had also been stolen. It was with great relief that he realized that this was not the case. Severus had always been, and it seemed continued to be, a loyal friend to his parents and himself. Though many might not believe it of the imposing man, once you had truly earned his allegiance there was little in the world that could shake it.

"Thank you, Uncle," he sighed with relief. He knew the man understood that he was not only thanking him for the education he was willing to impart but also for the safe haven he was offering.

It was with much trepidation that Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express to head home a few days following his discussion with Severus. He was wound so tightly that he was sure it must show across his face, no matter the attempt he made at control. His nerves were not helped at all when, while walking with Crabbe and Goyle to find the food trolley, they stumbled upon Potter in the corridor. Crabbe, itching for a victim to bully, had attacked the little git without a second thought. While this normally would not have particularly concerned Draco, he was annoyed that Crabbe apparently could not be bothered to see who was around at the time. Rather than jumping Potter, the three of them ended up cursed and shoved out of the way by the other boy's merry little band of followers. It was fortunate for Draco and Goyle that Blaise had walked by not long after and with a quick "Finite" put them both to rights. Crabbe, for his lack of attention, they left for the rest of the ride, only un-petrifying him as the train rolled into the station.

As they arrived, Draco and Blaise collected their things, said goodbye to a few housemates and quickly disembarked. Draco took his leave from Blaise with a promise to owl him in a few days and made his way down the platform in search of his mother. When he found her she clung to him fiercely and he could feel in her the stress and fear she had been surrounded by over the past several days. As he held her close in an attempt to comfort her, he caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Looking up quickly he found Sprite staring back at him.

She appeared much better now than the few days after whatever had happened the night everything in his world had gone wrong. He was glad, regardless of the other things that had occurred that night, that she was alright. With a sad smile she mouthed two words to him, "Thank you." Though he managed to maintain the mask over his features he inclined his head in acknowledgement. When she saw that he understood, she added silently "I'm sorry." Again he nodded briefly before turning away and leading his mother through the barrier and towards home.

Whatever had happened, he did not blame Sprite. He had come to realize over the past few days that the there was only one person who could truly be blamed for the whole situation. That was the one who had sent his father on some fool's errand, the one who had come back to reestablish his reign of terror over his family. He was not sure how it was going to happen, but Draco decided then and there that he would do anything he could to get his family out of this situation intact. The alternative was simply not something he would consider.

* * *

[1](Rowling, J.K. _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. 851)

* * *

**AN: Ah, welcome Severus! What do you think about his talk with Draco? Knowing Lucius as you do now, what do you think about his reasons for befriending Little First-Year Severus? What is waiting for Draco at home? How does all this affect Draco and Ginevra's friendship? Let me know your thoughts!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 –

As they left the train station, Draco got the first look at his mother since Christmas. Her appearance startled him. Though she had seemed less perfect in her appearance over the winter holidays, now the level of dishevelment was alarming. She had always been a slim woman but now she looked as if she had lost an alarming amount of weight, making her rumpled clothes appear to hang off of her. Her usually beautifully styled hair was hanging almost limply, barely out of her face. The natural gliding grace with which she normally walked was lacking. As they made their way to one of the available fireplaces in order to floo home she virtually leaned on him, as if she were too tired from recent events to even keep herself upright without support. In all, Draco was deeply worried about the situation that waited for them at home before he was even fully informed as to what that situation was.

Once again, his mother had flooed them directly to the private part of the house, affording them a few moments alone before they were required to face anyone. At his curious look, his mother sighed and sank down onto the couch that sat before the fireplace. Her hands came up and covered her face and for a moment Draco thought that she might actually be weeping. When she looked up at him again, however, he realized that rather than tears she had an almost empty look on her face.

"Mother?" he asked hesitantly, but then made his way to sit next to her. He knew that in his father's absence she needed to be able to rely on him. "Can you tell me what's happened? What can I do?" he inquired in a tone of voice that suggested more strength than he was sure he possessed at the moment.

"I'm not even sure how to explain…I so didn't want you to worry…" she trailed off, with that lost look on her face. But when he laid his hand on her shoulder in comfort, she seemed to rally herself somewhat. She sat up straighter and a determined look came into her eyes. "We don't have much time. It would be best if I explain quickly and then we floo down to the main fireplace so it appears that we've come straight there from the station." He nodded but was curious who would be monitoring when and where they entered their own home.

"Your father was summoned last Thursday afternoon and given an assignment from the Dark Lord, himself. Bella was also called and accompanied him on this mission, along with several others. I don't know exactly what he was meant to do, but I know that it involved acquiring something that the Dark Lord desired from the Ministry building. How he could have expected them to retrieve it and escape without detection I do not know, but that was their assignment. Something apparently went very wrong. I know the Potter boy was drawn into the situation and in the end the Dark Lord personally involved himself. Even with his presence, things did not all go to plan. He has been livid since that night.

"After whatever took place, he did not remain there long enough to collect those he had sent. Most of them were detained by Aurors. Your father-" she gasped and Draco almost thought she would not be able to continue. He rose and walked over a side table on which sat a pitcher of cool water and some glasses. Pouring one for his mother, he crossed back to her and encouraged her to drink some before continuing. It seemed to give her enough pause to calm herself and finish what she needed to tell him.

"Your father was among those who were detained. He was meant to be in charge of the endeavor – though knowing Bella I'm not entirely sure that is how it played out. Regardless, the Dark Lord was furious at the failure and, according to Severus, lays most of the blame at Lucius' feet. He has refused outright to make any move to free those who were taken into custody for the time being. He says that they can wait on his pleasure in Azkaban until such time as he sees fit to release them."

At the mention of his father being held in Azkaban, Draco visibly flinched. He hated to think of his father, ever so aristocratic and refined, being forced to stay in that dank, horrible place. It enraged him to think that, though the Dark Lord had the power to release him that very day, he would simply choose to leave him there out of petulant anger. Had the Dark Lord himself not been part of this misguided endeavor? It stood to reason then that all of the responsibility for failure could not be laid at the feet of a follower when the master had not succeeded in the end. He knew, however, that he needed to leash the outrage that had once again begun to build in him. Attempting to regain some control he asked his mother if she had any idea what was happening concerning his father's case.

"Our solicitor has been working almost nonstop on Lucius' case since this whole situation began," she explained. "I'm not even sure what all he has been trying to do, what kind of strings he had to pull, but apparently he was able to whittle everything down to a charge of 'Aiding in a Crime.' Technically, as your father serves an advisory role for the Ministry, they could not charge him with trespassing. Also, as nothing was conclusively stolen they could not charge him with theft, either. The only thing missing – other than some property that was clearly destroyed – was actually removed by the Potter boy. Though they would not say what the object was, apparently it technically belonged to him and therefore could not be seen as stolen."

"So with only being able to charge him with Aiding in a Crime, how long will he be…away?" Draco questioned. He had almost asked how long he would be in Azkaban, but caught the words just as they were leaving his mouth. He did not think that his mother needed another reminder of her husband's unfortunate whereabouts at the moment.

"Without intervention from the Dark Lord or the Ministry attempting to lay further charges, it appears that he will be away for around eleven months." A bitter smile stretched coldly across her face. "It would have been a year and a half but they chose to offer a few months reprieve in exchange for substantial monetary compensation to repair the damage wreaked at the Ministry."

Draco was at least somewhat relieved at this news. He was glad that the amount of time that his father would be away would be shortened and that the Ministry was so willing to be influenced by money. He knew that if they were able to access all of his family's financial information, the price for his father's shorter sentence would be much higher than the exorbitant amount it probably already was. Fortunately, he knew that Lucius had invested in several unregistered and untraceable accounts at Gringotts for each member of the family. It ensured that their financial situation would be less likely to be threatened if trouble were to arise. Draco knew there were those in the Ministry who would not hesitate to bankrupt them if the opportunity arose.

After his mother finished explaining his father's current situation, Draco asked about their own. "Mother, why did we need to floo into these rooms? Who are we avoiding in the main part of the house?"

His mother sighed and bowed her head. "That is a whole other situation I wish I could keep you from. It seems the Dark Lord has taken a liking to the Manor." At his nearly panicked look she hurried to reassure him. "No, no, he's not staying here, only using the Manor as a sort of headquarters. There are always people coming and going of late and I didn't want to chance that we'd have to deal with any of them before I'd had an opportunity to speak with you." He nodded in understanding. It was best to have everything worked out between them before they spoke with anyone else.

"We do have some…unexpected guests staying with us at the moment," she added hesitantly.

"Severus told me that your sister was with you. That because she was-" he cut off, not wanting to hurt his mother but then decided it would be best to continue, "because she was still in favor that it could be used to all of our advantage."

"That's true enough," she answered cautiously. "She is here. Her husband and brother-in-law have been coming and going since they arrived but they generally don't stay for very long. Draco, you need to be very careful of Bella. She has always been somewhat erratic, prone to making rash decisions and reacting with extremes. Thirteen years in Azkaban certainly did nothing to improve that." She paused and her face took on a stricken expression. "She was sent on the assignment with your father and managed to escape at the end. She returned chanting and-and spinning, more chaotic than I think I've ever seen her. What she was saying – Draco, they confirmed it a few days later – she was singing that she had killed Sirius!"

At this Draco's eyes went round. He knew that there was no love lost between the two parts of his family after his mother's cousin ran away. They obviously had fought on opposite sides of the Dark War. But to hear that his aunt had been _celebrating_ murdering her own cousin surprised him. As he watched his mother's face he saw the pained expression as she spoke of Sirius. He could see, especially after having heard the account of what had happened to Regulus and the way his parents spoke of him, how deeply his mother was saddened over Sirius' death. He could also tell that she was doing her best to hide her thoughts on the situation. He understood how dangerous it would be for her to openly mourn someone who had plainly fought against the Dark Lord and his cause.

In that moment he fully grasped how difficult the situation had been for his mother over the past week. Her husband had been taken from her, her cousin murdered. She had been expected to accommodate and welcome not only an apparently insane sister into her home but hoards of rather frightening servants of the Dark Lord as well. On top of that all, she had been worried about keeping him safe and sheltered from everything that was happening around them. At this last thought he scooted closer to her on the couch and hugged her securely.

"I'm so sorry you've been alone through all of this, mother. I'll do everything I can to help make things better, easier for you," he promised.

"Just stay away from everything that is happening here as much as you can. With your father gone – without him here to serve the Dark Lord I want to keep you as far away from notice as possible. I've spoken to Severus about the arrangements the two of you made at the end of term. I agree with him that it will be for the best if you spend as much time with him as you can." When Draco started to argue that she needed him here she raised her hand to quiet his words. "I understand that you wish to be here for me. You are as protective as your father." A small smile flitted across her face before she grew serious again. "It will be a greater relief to me to have you less in harm's way than anything you could do here for me. I love you, my Dragon. I need you to be safe."

Though his inclination was to object, the nearly desperate look on her face made him agree to what she asked. There truly was nothing he could think of that he would not do for his mother. In the end, however, the decision to follow her request was taken from his hands the day of his birthday.

* * *

Draco had spent the day before his birthday at Spinner's End, discussing Severus' plans for both Potions and Occlumency studies that summer. They had decided that he would be spending his birthday with his mother and then beginning his lessons the following day. Up to that point, Draco had done an excellent job of avoiding the various guests that had been in and out of the Manor since he had arrived home. It relieved his mother that the only real contact between himself and his aunt had been at dinners when they all gathered in the dining room. Other than that, he had stayed either in his rooms or out with Blaise. While he understood why his mother wanted to keep him away from his aunt – it was obvious that Azkaban had driven the woman nearly mad – he felt he was able to handle her in these small doses.

It was because of this distance he had been maintaining that he was immediately concerned to have her bursting into his rooms the morning of his sixteenth birthday. He had dressed more formally than he usually did for the summer as he and his mother were planning to lunch at one of the nicer restaurants in wizarding London in celebration of his birthday. It had been one of his favorites since he was ten and he was looking forward to eating there, as well as for the chance to spend the afternoon alone with his mother.

Draco had just finished tying his tie when the door banged open with a resonding crack against the wall and his aunt flew into the room. The almost frantic look on his mother's face as she followed after her sister confirmed that something was very wrong. Standing to face them, Draco did not need to wait long to discover why they had come in so hurriedly and so early. As soon as she saw him standing there his aunt started speaking in a fast, chaotic manor.

"Come, Draco! Come quickly, He cannot be made to wait!" She continued to speak as she latched on to his arm and began to drag him towards the door. "You have been asked for specifically, by name. There is no time to lose. This is our chance, our chance, boy, to return to a place of honor. Whatever he says, whatever he commands, you will do it without hesitation!"

Draco allowed himself to be pulled forward but moved with less enthusiasm than his aunt apparently wished or expected of him. At her sound of annoyance in his direction he turned his attention to his mother, who was trailing after the two of them looking utterly lost.

"Mother, what's happening? Who has asked for me?" he asked with a sinking feeling as he guessed at the answer. There was only one person that he could think of who would cause such a fervent response in his aunt.

"Who? Who do you think, boy? Our Lord has called for you. You will do whatever it is that he asks," Bellatrix all but screeched at him. Her harsh response seemed to be enough to shake his mother from her stupor momentarily.

"Don't speak to my son that way, Bella. H-he will do what is required of him without your interference. He is my son and as such it is my place to instruct him, not yours. Draco needs to be presentable before he is brought to the Dark Lord. Leave us for a few moments and I will help him get ready." It appeared for a second that Bellatrix might oppose this demand, but then relented, acknowledging her sister's right to instruct her son. The darker woman left them with an admonishment to be take care not to delay. As his aunt pulled the door closed behind herself, Draco watched as his mother's face crumpled from the strong façade she had used to face her sister into an expression of terrified despair. She turned towards him and pulled him into a rib-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry, Dragon, I'm so sorry," she repeated over and over as she held him. He realized that she was trembling. Seeing his mother like that was nearly enough to make him panic as well, but he realized that he needed to be as prepared as possible for whatever was about to happen. Drawing on years of practice and watching his father shield his emotions from all but those closest to him, he prepared himself to face whatever would be coming that day. Gently, he pulled his mother away from her terrified hold enough that he was able to see her as he spoke. He attempted the smooth, controlled voice his father had used with him as a child to calm and sooth him after bad dreams left him frightened in the middle of the night.

"Mother, you need to tell me what is happening, and quickly. I can handle it. I just need to know what is going on. The Dark Lord has called for me? Why? Have you heard?" At his convincing effort towards calm competency his mother also rallied to instruct him.

"He has called for you, says he has a task to assign that requires access to Hogwarts. He has said that while your father has failed him, he is being gracious." At this she scoffed but continued on. "He will give us, through you, the opportunity to once again prove the faithfulness and use of the Malfoys. Oh, Draco-" she cut off with a gasp, "your father tried so hard to keep you away from all of this, to protect you. But now, you will both be in serious danger if we don't agree to whatever he requires of you."

He hugged her again and tried to reassure her. "This is not father's fault, or yours. There is nothing either of you could have done to change this. He would have called on me sooner or later. I'm only a year from majority. I will do what I can to make sure we all come out of this ok. I can do whatever I need to for that," he assured, feeling much more terrified than he was willing to allow his mother to see. "It sounds like I need to hurry. I will see you as soon as I get back." At her attempt to argue he stopped her. "No, I want you to stay here. Please. I love you, mother."

With that, he quickly kissed her cheek and straightened his tie. He retrieved the nice set of black robes he had laid out for his birthday lunch and pulled them on as he walked through the door. As she watched him go, Narcissa wondered as tears rolled down her pretty cheeks just when he had grown up so much. She realized with miserable clarity that it was all happening again. Draco and probably far too many children were being forced into rolls they never should have had to take on. Though she knew that her son understood somewhat better what he was getting into than they had at his age and was therefore at least marginally better prepared, the whole situation reminded her of Lucius as a teenager and, terrifyingly, Regulus. She hoped, not for the first time, that this whole situation would end before Draco and the other young ones being forced to grow up so fast were lost or hardened beyond repair.

* * *

Everything hurt. Draco could not imagine anything in life being more painful than the experiences he had gone through that day. What had started out looking like a happy sixteenth birthday as he planned to spend the afternoon with his mother, turned out to be a situation that while brief, was straight from his blackest nightmares. He had indeed been brought before the Dark Lord to receive an assignment and made to stand before him in the middle of a dank room lined all around by robed Death Eaters. Far from being a privilege and a chance to return his family to a place of security, it became clear that this was meant to be a punishment as Draco saw the smirking faces of those around him. The Dark Lord expressed his dissatisfaction in Lucius' failure a few weeks before and fury at the man's inadvertent loss of an object that had been left in his keeping several years before.

"Despite these disappointments," the Dark Lord had hissed in his terrifyingly inhuman voice, glancing around at his gathered followers, "I am a merciful Lord, am I not?" If possible, the faces of those around appeared to be even more gleeful than before.

In the moments which followed, Draco understood why the Death Eaters appeared so excited. They were simply waiting for the entertainment that would come from the punishment of the Malfoys by their Master. The snake-like man explained with a sneer that because of their egregious failures, Draco would not yet have the right to take the Dark Mark as proof of his devotion. Instead, by way of an alternate initiation, he would endure the Cruciatus Curse.

In the following moments, Draco was hit again and again with the most excruciating pain he had ever imagined. He felt that his bones were breaking while his blood was turned alternately from lava to ice and back again in his veins. Though he attempted to maintain some control, in the end it proved too much. He screamed and thrashed despite his best efforts. When the curse finally was removed from him, he lay on the floor for a moment struggling to catch his breath before painfully dragging himself into a kneeling position on the floor before the Dark Lord's chair. When he attempted to use his left arm to help steady himself on the floor, pain shot through him again. Clutching at it he hissed in a sharp breath. A calloused chuckle drew his attention back to the figure seated before him.

"How appropriate," the Dark Lord stated in an amused tone. From the awkward angle of the left wrist and the way Draco held his arm to his chest, the serpentine man deduced that the arm was broken, injured in the midst of Draco's writhing under the curse's influence. "Apparently, young Malfoy was so disappointed that he would not be receiving the Mark today, that he has injured himself in its very location." A round of dark sniggers followed the Dark Lord's comment. "Very well," he continued, "if you are so desperate for a memento of your new service to me, you will leave the arm to heal on its own, without the use of magic. You may bind it so that it will not heal improperly. I have no use for a crippled servant. It will serve as your reminder over the next few weeks as to what happens when I am displeased."

After that, the whole audience was something of a blur in Draco's mind. The pain he felt in his arm was echoed throughout his body as the residual effects of the curse wore off unbelievably slowly. He heard the Dark Lord order all but Bellatrix to leave and then give him his assignment. He was, before the end of the coming school year, to kill Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard alive, rumored to be the only person the Dark Lord himself feared, and Draco had just been told he must kill him or face the consequences. It was made clear that if he should fail it would not only be he who was punished but also his mother and father as well. A feeling of nausea from fear nearly engulfed him at the situation he was now in.

Fighting to maintain the expressionless mask until he was dismissed, Draco rose from the floor still holding his arm and bowed stiffly to the man who had just assigned him an impossible task. As he left, he vaguely noticed the Dark Lord call for Severus, who had been waiting outside the door with an air of cool indifference. He heard as Severus, who from his experience in potions was generally familiar with basic healing, was ordered to take him back to Spinner's End and splint his arm but to refrain from mending it outright. For the first time in the whole situation Draco felt a jolt of relief. He was loathed to see his mother before he had been brought back to some kind of order and could not imagine having been left to his aunt's care. He knew Severus was capable and willing to help him and that his mother would be put somewhat at ease when she learned that he was away from the Dark Lord's presence and at Spinner's End.

Draco was grateful when Severus bowed and left the room, striding towards him where he waited, every grain of his strength being used at that point to remain upright and sufficiently alert. He hazily listened as Severus requested that Bellatrix inform Narcissa concerning Draco's whereabouts. As she left, his uncle turned to face him, for the first time showing some of the concern he felt for Draco on his face.

"We can't move you with your arm like that without doing further damage," the older man explained in a low voice. "It will be best if I cast a Petrificus on you and then Side-Along Apparate with you while you are immobile. Less likely to jolt something that way."

By that point Draco was beyond caring; only wishing to have some relief from the throbbing pain. At his nod he felt as the spell effect him and he went ridged before the disorienting sensation of being transported by magic hit him. When they appeared into Severus' sitting room, he all but collapsed as the man muttered the counter curse. Fortunately, his uncle caught him by his right arm and gently guided him to recline on the couch in front of the fireplace. He was instructed to wait there while the man retrieved materials for a splint and potions to numb his pain.

Once dosed with the potion, Draco was finally able to relax enough for his arm to be worked on and soon Severus had set and bound his arm as smoothly as possible. He was instructed that he would need to leave the splint in place for around six weeks, possibly longer depending on how quickly he healed. Seeing his look of shock at this his uncle simply nodded.

"You're lucky this is only a minor break, not a more serious one. Six weeks is the average you are looking at with only muggle methods of healing. I have some potions that I believe you can take without going against orders. They will promote healthy circulation, keep swelling and bruising down and help your body absorb the nutrients it needs in order to heal as quickly as possible. Other than that, all I can do is help with the pain." Looking at the dark haired man's face Draco saw the emotions that were usually kept hidden displayed across his face. "I am sorry, Draco. I wish there was something I could have done to have prevented all this-"

Draco cut him off, "Uncle, stop. It's the same as I told mother earlier. Neither, she nor you nor father could have done anything once his mind was made up." He slowly sat up, wincing as he moved his still-aching body. "As angry as he was, I suppose I'm lucky to have gotten away with only a Cruciatus," he said with a bitter, sneering smile. A thought occurred to him and he glanced up at his uncle. "By the way, what was he talking about when he said father lost something of his? Why was he so angry about it?" At the time he had been too frightened to care but away from the situation his curiosity had grown.

"I don't know details, only the little that Lucius mentioned after the fact," Severus answered as he handed Draco a cream to use on the various bruises he had sustained from the curse. "Apparently, your father had an item which the Dark Lord had given him for safekeeping. A few years ago, just before your second year when the Ministry was conducting raids on the homes of former Death Eaters and such, he decided to do some 'cleaning' around the Manor. He said he needed to make sure there was nothing there that could cause issues if discovered."

Draco nodded. "I remember. He took me with him to Knockturn to sell some of the things he had found." At a further memory he chuckled, "That's the day he got into a fight with Weasley's father at the bookstore. I'm not sure if mother was actually more shocked or angry when father came home with a lump on his head from getting hit with a book."

"Yes, well, that was not one of Lucius' finer moments I must agree. But regardless, that's where things became interesting." Receiving a quizzical expression he continued. "Your father had stumbled upon an object while cleaning out the Manor, a powerful dark object that he had almost forgotten was there. I do not know the details but somehow it was beginning to control him, demand things of him. While he was nervous of it anyway because of that power, he became deeply alarmed when it demanded that it be given to you."

"To me? What would it want me for?" Draco asked surprised.

Over the next few minutes, Severus explained the how the object was connected to the Chamber of Secrets. Draco sat, shocked, as he learned how his father had convinced it that it needed a host better suited than Draco and how he had slipped it into another student's caldron to keep it away from him. At the end of the story, Draco thought for a few minutes before asking if his uncle knew who the other student was.

"Ginevra Weasley. She barely made it out alive, according to Dumbledore. She was very lucky."

At this Draco's jaw dropped and then clinched shut. He had to remind himself that his father had given it to her in order to protect him to keep from being angry at something that was four years in the past. He knew Sprite was fine, that was what mattered now. He forced himself to calm down as he watched Severus clean up the things he had used to treat his injuries. Once he was finished, he came to sit in one of the armchairs across from Draco. The older man surveyed him thoughtfully for a few moments before he began.

"Draco, I know what task the Dark Lord has given to you." Seeing the renewed fear and stress on the boy's face at the mention of his assignment he continued, "You have to know you cannot accomplish this on your own. I will help you if you will allow me to. However, the first thing we must do is develop your mental shields. Without them anyone will be able to extract this whole affair from your mind. You cannot let that happen."

At a nod from Draco he continued. "You have been through too much today physically for me to see any good in attempting to begin now. It would tax you too far mentally before you have had significant rest. I would rather begin tomorrow with your instruction. The only exercise that I think will be beneficial today would be for me to observe how your mind is arranged. With your body already under stress I will be able to sift through your thoughts with less resistance than I would meet otherwise."

With Draco's consent, Severus raised his wand and, looking him in the eyes, uttered "Legilimens." Draco felt a pressure on his thoughts and fought to keep the foreign presence out. It took him a few seconds to remember that Severus was not attacking him, but attempting to understand how his mind worked. Knowing that this would indeed help in the process of teaching the skill, he slowly forced himself to relax.

It felt as though he were watching a screen on which various memories from different parts of his life were played as Severus sorted through them, bringing one after another to the forefront of his mind. Innocuous things – the first time he flew on a broom, mother reading to him as a little boy, walking down Diagon Alley with father as the man pointed out interesting things to him – and some less pleasant – losing his first quidditch game to Potter, his stupidity getting him attacked by the hippogriff, being turned into a rodent by Professor Moody. He was slightly concerned by the way his memories of Sprite kept cropping up throughout this survey of his mental design. He hoped that Severus would either not recognize or simply ignore the way she seemed to flit throughout his thoughts at regular intervals. It was not, however, until Severus happened upon his memories of last summer that Draco suddenly renewed his efforts to shut the man out.

With growing concern he watched the conversation in which his parents explained their feelings on the Dark Lord play out through his mind. It was like trying to push a door closed on an eavesdropper who was bigger and stronger than you. No matter how much he pressed against Severus to keep him away from that memory, the man was by far the stronger force. For a few moments he maintained his focus on the conversation, long enough to hear what was said, before he moved on to other portions of Draco's mind. Draco was not sure exactly how long his uncle remained there sifting through his mental layout. When the man finally sat back heavily in his chair, releasing him from the spell, he saw that the shadows coming in from the book-lined windows had lengthened considerably.

Though the experience had not hurt him in any way, when combined with the pain he had endured that morning and the terror he had felt at his assignment the mental exercise had been brutally taxing. Draco leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes. He might have even nodded off to sleep where he sat if Severus' words had not startled to full awareness.

"I had often wondered about Lucius' feelings after what happened to Regulus," the man mused almost to himself.

Alarmed, Draco began to offer up some excuse or lie to cover what Severus had seen in his thoughts. "Uncle, I-he, what you saw-"

"Calm down, Draco. Of all people in this world, I am quite possibly the one least likely to bring harm to Lucius, Cissa and you. It merely confirmed thoughts that I'd had before." He paused, looking at Draco as if appraising him, determining whether or not to speak before apparently making up his mind. He leaned forward and asked softly, "Draco, tell me honestly. Do you want this life? Do you wish to follow your father – or apparently more aptly your aunt – in this service? Whichever way you choose, I will do what I can to protect you. I just need to know what you want in order to know the best way to do that."

Draco sat there for a moment, body aching, mind reeling, trying to figure out what he should say. He trusted Severus. His father had said that they could. But if they were wrong and he told the man the truth, it could mean the end for his entire family. In the end, however, his desperation at the situation he had been thrust into won out.

"Like father said, you won't hear me extolling the merits of muggles or muggleborns and you'll probably never see me become best mates with Saint Potter, but I'm not a murderer, Uncle! You have to believe me when I say that the only reason I would ever even consider this whole suicide mission is to protect mother."

"I believe you. I would be hard put to think you capable of killing in cold blood." Severus assured him, leaning across the table and placing a reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder. He weighed his next words thoughtfully before continuing, "We will have to think carefully what to do before you return to school. Nothing could possibly be done towards your assignment before then so it is likely that you will not even hear from the Dark Lord before that time. I think that the best course of action right now would be for us to try to come up with a plan, a few even, that could be reported to the Dark Lord to demonstrate that you are seriously endeavoring to fulfill his wishes. This should be enough to buy us some time. Meanwhile we will work out your options of getting out of this mess alive."

Draco nodded in agreement. Now that there was some hope ahead for his escape from the situation he felt what little remaining energy he had leave him. Despite the fact that it was only midevening, Severus instructed him to head upstairs to the office which also served as guess bedroom to get some rest. Severus warned him Pettigrew would be arriving sometime later that evening to do some menial work the Dark Lord had assigned to him so he should be cautious with his words when he awoke. As Draco drifted off to sleep, over the covers and still dressed in his slacks and collared shirt, his last gut-wrenching thought was of Sprite lying on the ground in a dark cavern as the terrifying form of the Dark Lord stood over her.

* * *

It was some time after midnight that Draco jerked awake. Looking around he realized that he was still in Severus' guest room but that it was now the middle of the night. He was covered in a sheen of sweat and the remnants of the nightmare he had been having played viciously in his head. Though grateful for it, he could not tell what had woken him from his disturbing dreams until he heard again the soft ringing caused by his uncle's outer wards. Because this area of town was so unlikely to see one of their kind by chance, the outer wards were set to go off when a witch or wizard came within a block of the house. Draco knew that a second more defensive set surrounded the actual house and prevented all but a select few from entering without permission.

Curious as to who would be in this part of town on foot at this hour of night, Draco crept to the top of the stairs only to be surprised by the terror-stricken face of his mother and the disdainful one of his aunt. He only caught a glimpse of them as Severus ushered them into the sitting room and ordered Pettigrew, who must have arrived while Draco slept, to bring them something to drink. Then the door shut, closing off his senses from the impromptu meeting which was apparently taking place downstairs. The only reason he could imagine his mother to have come out here this late at night and in such a state would be because of his mission with the Dark Lord and Draco was interested in what was being said. Remembering that the room he had been sleeping in was directly above the sitting room, he hurried as quickly and quietly as he could back into it and over to a vent in the floor.

It was a trick he and Blaise had learned as children. In older houses, like the Manor and Severus' home, often times the vents which allowed air to circulate between the downstairs and the upstairs were merely grate-covered spaces cut out in the floor. If a person was able to open them quietly enough, they could often listen to whole conversations happening below them, provided the participants were not whispering. If the ones being spied on were obliging enough to be standing or sitting at just the right angle, the eavesdropper was often even able to see them as well with the right angling of the vent slats. In the past he had used this trick to try and discover what he was to get for his birthday or Christmas or things of that nature. He had never thought he would be using it as nearly an adult in such a situation as this. As luck would have it though, he was able to both hear and see portions of what was happening below him.

Draco settled into position on the floor and prepared to gain what information he could from the conversation. Though he could not see his aunt he could certainly hear her. Both Severus and his mother were in clear view sitting across from each other in much the same positions that he and his uncle had been in earlier that evening. He was not sure whether or not to be concerned when as he assured Draco's mother that they were alone in the house, Severus shot a fleeting glance over the heads of both women straight at the vent through which Draco was spying. He assumed that his mother knew that he was here but he guessed that Severus had flooed her to say that he had all but passed out and would remain there for the night. She probably thought that he was still asleep and did not wish to draw attention to him where his aunt was concerned. He relaxed again when Severus' eyes drifted back down to answer some screeching question of Bellatrix's.

Over the course of the first part of the conversation Draco learned things about his uncle that he had not even thought to question. It did make sense that some of the faithful would question the loyalty of this fellow Death Eater, when the situation was laid out as his aunt presented it. Though the man's answers were clearly satisfactory having been enough to convince the Dark Lord himself something still felt off. When Draco added these same questions to their conversation earlier that evening it made him wonder if there was more to the whole situation than most saw. He put these thoughts aside for the moment and returned his concentration to the discussion below.

It became clear soon after his aunt temporarily finished her attack on Severus that she had been busy filling in his mother on the details of this afternoon and his assignment from the Dark Lord. If he had seen less of the woman recently, he might have been surprised by her calloused manner in which she spoke of her only nephew taking on a suicide mission. It troubled him how distraught his mother was. He was suddenly immensely grateful that she had not been in attendance to witness his torture that afternoon. When she broke down and began to beg for Severus' help it became painful for him to watch.

Draco fully expected his uncle to explain that it would be impossible. Despite their conversation that afternoon it seemed dangerous to mention anything of the sort in front of someone so unpredictable, let alone so loyal to the Dark Lord as Bellatrix. So he was greatly surprised when the man offered a promise to try and help him. It was not until his mother requested that Severus make the Unbreakable Vow with her and the man agreed that Draco felt his jaw drop. Regardless of the several surprises that had taken place in this relatively short conversation, Draco would never have guessed that that request would either be made or granted.

As he watched the bonding take place, Draco had to restrain himself to keep from making any sound of shock or dismay. This seemed like it would undo all of the plans, tentative as they were at this point, that he and his uncle had been devising earlier that evening. As they finished the final words that sealed the magical contract, Severus' eyes met his wide, astonished ones before looking back at the sisters.

Shortly after, his uncle ushered the two women out of the front door. Draco then heard him call to Pettigrew sending him to bed in the basement for the night. He heard as Severus made his way up the stairs and to the door of the guest room. With a knock the man opened the door to find Draco still seated on the ground next to the floor vent, too shocked at what had transpired shortly before to even bring himself to stand. At the sight his uncle allowed a small smile creep onto his face.

"I remember when you and Blaise used to do that, listen and try to get information from the adults around you. Quite the little spy."

"Uncle…why?" Draco asked his voice aghast. At his uncle's motion he waited for the man to cast a warding charm over the room so there was no way they could be overheard should Pettigrew decide to try his hand at eavesdropping. Then he continued, "Why would you do that? I thought we were going to try and do something – anything – to try and avoid-" he could not even bring himself to say _to avoid _killing_ someone_. It made the whole thing so terrifyingly real. Instead he carried on. "Now there is no way out. One of us must do it, you've sworn and there is no way to break your word on it!" His voice towards the end became almost hysterical reflecting the strain that the entire day had taken on him.

"Draco, calm down," Severus ordered. When the boy had taken a few deep breaths he explained, "I am quite familiar with the limitations of the Unbreakable Vow. I have done extensive research on the subject and know the ways in which it binds a person. However, I also am more familiar than most with the limitations and peculiarities of this particular magic. While I need to consult a few texts to ensure that I am one hundred percent correct, I believe that everything will be well. It is just as well that I learned your feelings on the subject of the Dark Lord before I made the Vow as that inflection on the magic will be of some importance towards what I am and am not able to do within its confines."

The man placed a reassuring hand on Draco's shoulder before suggesting, "Why don't you get some more sleep. Despite your earlier rest you've had an extremely long day. Tomorrow we will discuss this further and begin your Occlumency and potions lessons."

At this suggestion Draco nodded and climbed off the floor. After bidding his uncle goodnight and pulling on the nightclothes Severus had left for him he crawled back into bed and fell asleep. Fortunately, the rest of the night was uninterrupted by nightmares and he awoke in the morning well rested.

* * *

**AN: LONG CHAPTER! This is by far the longest chapter yet. I kept trying to break it apart into two but it didn't work that way. Therefore, enjoy what is essentially a double feature.**

**What do you think about Narcissa's reaction to Sirius' death? Now we have seen Draco's assignment. How do you feel about the fact that I haven't changed that? Will Ginny find out? What do you think she will say about it? What do you think about Draco's Legilimensy lessons? Severus' reaction to what he saw? I love hearing your feedback!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 –

The morning after he had watched Severus make the Unbreakable Vow with his mother, Draco got up and made his way downstairs to his uncle's small dine-in kitchen. He was greeted by the smell of sausages, toast and the strong black tea his uncle preferred in the morning. From his place at the table, Severus indicated that Draco should join him. As they ate they discussed what their first plan of action should be towards working out the problem laid before Draco.

"I've sent Wormtail away for the time being. I told him that you would suffice in helping me with the brewing that I need to do and he scuttled back off to headquarters," Severus explained with a roll of his eyes. "One would think he didn't like being around me," he sneered. "Either way, it is best that he not be here while we work through your initial training, as this is the most taxing and outwardly obvious part. I do think that you will be able to learn this relatively quickly though. The attempt you made yesterday at forcing me away from certain thoughts was actually impressive."

Draco looked confused at this. "But I couldn't push you out. You still saw it even when I tried to push you away," he said in a slightly irritated tone.

"True, but it was impressive nonetheless. It is rare that a person is able to block me without significant training. Once I am already inside a person's mind, it takes either a great deal of discipline or an even greater bout of sheer force, such as that of an extremely powerful emotion, to expel me." He looked at Draco with half measuring, half proud eyes. "While I was able to remain when you tried to block my presence it was not without effort. Once trained, I believe you will be a powerful Occlumens."

Draco was somewhat surprised by this. His father had mentioned before that Severus was particularly apt at this skill. It added to the meager hope that had begun to grow the day before when his uncle had assured him that they would try and find a solution to the terrible assignment he had been given. After a few moments of thought about the subject he asked the older man.

"Uncle, why do you think I was able to fight you? Why would I be good at this when I've never even attempted it before yesterday?"

The dark man thought about his answer as he finished the last few bites of his breakfast. Draco, used to the way the man rarely spoke without carefully collecting his thoughts beforehand waited patiently, sure that he would get an answer if he waited.

"It has to do with control," Severus began by way of explanation. "The better disciplined a person is – not only mentally but in other ways as well – the easier it will often be to carry that power over themselves into Occlumency." At the curious look on Draco's face he continued. "Your father, for instance. While many see him as cold, uncaring even, you and I know that this is not the case. He cares as deeply for a few as any Gryffindor does for the whole of humanity." He choked back a snicker at this statement and at the nearly horrified expression Draco cast him at this comparison before he continued. "The difference between Lucius and those dudderheads is that Lucius is able to carefully control his emotions, his expressions and his tongue while the other is an open book for anyone to read. Those elements of control allow him to carry over the physical barriers he puts up, his mask if you will, into a mental shield to cover his thoughts as well.

"You are very like Lucius, and growing more so every day. I've watched you try to emulate your father since you were just out of baby clothes. The ability to close off your emotions is one of the ways in which you have most succeeded."

"I know," answered his nephew. "Mother has said upon occasion that it is one of the few ways in which she wishes I were not quite so much like father. She says that 'bottling it up all the time did not always do Lucius favors' and that I 'need to learn to express things.'" He finished with a roll of his eyes, but softened it with a smile.

Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow and smirked a bit. "Yes, Cissa did used to complain about that in school. In fact, if I remember correctly, that was one of the reasons why she initially would have nothing to do with Lucius." At the almost shocked look on the young man's face Severus let out a hoot of actual laughter. "Oh yes, Draco," he exclaimed almost merrily. "Don't let your father fool you. He had a very difficult time winning a stubborn Cissa over in the beginning. It wasn't until he learned how to open up, at least where she was concerned, that she even gave him the time of day. She had him so wound around her fingers that he wasn't sure which way was up, no matter what he might try to tell you." He sobered a little from this chance to both stun the boy and lightheartedly out his friend enough to offer a warning. "Keep that in mind for the future. While control is very important, in this case it will go far towards keeping you safe, there are times when it will do more harm than good. Learn whom you can trust and then don't shut them out." Draco wondered at the look on Severus' face whether the man was speaking from experience on that point.

"Getting back to the matter at hand and to answer your question, I think it is your control that will give you a leg up in learning Occlumency. Really, the only difficulty I see in the whole thing will be your temper." He eyed the younger man knowingly before he concluded. "In fact, you already have a very basic shield in place. Not one that keeps out someone skilled at delving into a person's mind when they are actively trying to, but one that cloaks areas of your mind, keeping them from the surface. It is possibly this, enforced by your fear and resolve, which allowed you make it through your interview with the Dark Lord without having been discovered. Let us hope that he doesn't actually attempt to enter your thoughts any time soon, or we'll both be in a sticky situation." He finished this last thought with a grimace.

Having explained this basic information to Draco he rose from the table and they left to begin Draco's instruction in the sitting room. For the next week Draco stayed with Severus, working every spare moment to develop his shield. While it was taxing work, both men understood that it was vitally important for their collective safety, and that of Draco's parents, for him to be able to keep others out. And so, neither complained. By dinner exactly seven days after they had begun he was able to repel a particularly strong attack the older man attempted midsentence at the dinner table with surprising fluidity. It was then that his uncle announced that he was ready to return home. They both knew that Draco would be returning most days, if only to avoid his aunt. However, they also knew that Narcissa was horribly worried and would be easier if her son were officially home once again.

For the next few weeks something of a pattern developed when Draco went to Severus' house. When others were present, a rather rare occurrence earlier in the summer, they worked through progressively more difficult potions that they had yet to cover in Draco's classes. He genuinely enjoyed the subject as well as working with the older man and made a good deal of progress in his ability as the summer passed. When they were alone, Severus worked mercilessly on Occlumency. It was a grueling progress, despite his uncle's assurances that he was actually quite gifted at it, and often resulted in Draco passing out from exhaustion and staying the night at Spinner's End.

This continued every day uninterrupted for a month and a half before Severus informed Draco that he would be away for the next two days and Draco would therefore be unable to come by until he had returned. Though grateful that the man had been willing and able to put his life on hold to help and teach him this far, Draco was loathed to spend any more time than was strictly necessary around his deranged aunt. He decided that he would do his best to stay out of sight at home for the next few days in an attempt to be likewise out of mind where the woman was concerned. It irritated him that he was essentially forced to hide out in his own home but knew things could be much worse.

This was how, in the final week before the Hogwarts letters usually arrived signaling that summer was coming to a close, that Draco found himself prowling around in the generally uninhabited sections of his home. Having looked through the attics the day before, he decided to explore the basement and cellar areas on his second full day without making a trip to Spinner's End since his birthday. It was something that he and Blaise had done as children. He had rarely been down there since they were around eight and it was interesting the things he noticed as an adult that he had missed or simply did not care about as a child.

He looked through his father's wine collection, at this age able to understand the various notations on the labels that would have been gibberish to his eight-year-old self. He also visited the household vault, which housed various personal items of value not stored at Gringotts. His mother's formal jewelry was there; not the really gaudy things never worn, but the ones she liked to have on hand to wear to important or fancy events. There was a shelf off to the side with some of his father's more important personal paperwork. Among others Draco found a copy of the deed to the manor and identification papers for the whole family – Draco had been interested to even find papers for his grandfather and grandmother there among those of his and his parents – all of these rolled up, sealed and carefully labeled in his father's neat hand.

There was of course a small cache of gold in the vault as well. Though the majority of the Malfoy fortune was stored at Gringotts, his father had explained when he had keyed Draco into the vault the previous year that this cache was meant for emergencies. It was only to be used in times of great need when a trip to the bank was entirely impossible. Draco remembered feeling quite grown up when his father had added him to the short list, only including his parents and himself, of people who were able to access the vault. He had not expected at the time that a little over a year later he would be using the place as a hideout from his deranged relatives.

Having gotten bored after checking over everything in the vault twice to make sure that no one had meddled in it, Draco left the room and headed for the stairs to make a hasty retreat to his bedroom. He had already eaten dinner with his mother and Bellatrix a couple of hours before and he felt it fairly likely that most of the house was either in bed for the night or, in his aunts case, out serving the Dark Lord. In either case, he felt confident that he would be undisturbed for the rest of the night.

As he passed by the old cellar situated underneath the parlor which in times past would have been used for holding stores of food for winter, something caught his attention. He was not sure what it was, some small sound or slight movement, but he paused with one foot on the stair, to try and find it again. After standing there for a few moments he determined that it had only been his imagination. He began heading up the stairs when he heard a small noise. It was like a scratching sound against the wall that separated the stairs from the cellar. Draco was surprised that such a tiny thing could have caught his attention to begin with. At first he figured that it was simply a mouse or some such creature searching the old storage area for leftover scraps. It was not until he remembered that the elves placed repelling charms around the house to keep out such pests that he discounted this theory. Not really having anything better to do besides hurry up to his room to continue hiding out, Draco decided to investigate. If nothing else it would put off his nightly routine of pacing his room, searching his mind for various ideas and plans to present to Severus when he returned.

Retracing his steps back down the hallway, Draco reached the door to the cellar and tried to push it open. It appeared to be charmed locked. As there had not been anything stored in this part of the house for years and he could not remember it ever having been shut up before he immediately guessed that it must have something to do with his aunt's presence. He hesitated, not wanting to bring the woman's attention to himself if she were to discover that he had been in there, but then his curiosity got the better of him. He did not want to use his wand outside of school right now as he knew any more negative attention from the Ministry towards his family could be potentially catastrophic for them. Then he remember what his father had explained when he had keyed Draco into the vault.

"I'm putting a lot of trust in you, Draco. Keying you into the vault's security wards not only allows you access to the vault – a great responsibility in itself – but it also causes the Manor as a whole to recognize you as an official master of its magic. Only your mother's magical signature and mine will override your access to anything magically controlled in the house from now on," his father said gravely.

This information had surprised Draco and also explained certain curiosities to him that he had wondered about as he had grown up. It had not been unusual when he was small for him to come across doors that would not open for him that his parents could open and close without a problem. Shelves that seemed reachable before he and Blaise would try to retrieve something from them would suddenly become mysteriously too high. If it was raining out and he tried to sneak into the garden despite what he had been told, almost always the door would jam and he would be stuck inside. If he went in search of Christmas or birthday presents in the trunk in his parents' room, even if the key had been left in the lock just tempting him to peak, it would either refuse to turn or the lid of the trunk would refuse to budge.

Though there were gradually fewer of such instances as he got older – fewer areas of the house restricted and such – he now realized that there had been no such instances in the past year. His father had indeed been correct; the house now recognized him as the young master unless his one of his parents directly ordered it to restrict him. Even then, his father had mentioned dryly that it took an annoyingly tedious bit of spell casting and would very likely not be worth it. As an almost-adult, his father had said, he expected Draco to merely respect the wishes of his mother and father and adhere to any boundaries they requested. Pleased with the comment about his maturity and the trust his father had placed in him, Draco had happily agreed. Now, he was even more grateful for that trust.

As he looked at the locked door to the cellar, he realized that if his aunt had indeed been the one to lock it, the door could no more keep him out than it could his parents. The thought even occurred to him that in his father's absence it was possible that the Manor was adjusting more to him as master, at least temporarily. He remembered father mentioning how something similar had happened while grandfather had been ill when Draco was just a small child. During a time when his grandfather was unable to contribute to the maintenance of the property, particularly the wards and magical aspects, the home had gradually shifted its magic to orient around Lucius rather than the older gentleman. If the same thing happened now the house would most certainly recognize Draco's claim, regardless of how powerfully Bellatrix might have warded the room.

Draco, keeping these thoughts in mind, studied the locked door with growing curiosity. Far beyond any mild interest the actual contents of the room might have held for him was the temptation to see if he could influence the wards into letting him in. He would never betray his parents' trust by attempting to circumvent any restrictions they might place on the house. However, he was fairly certain this was not either of their doing. In the past year they had always mentioned to him if there were somewhere they wished him to avoid. He did not even think they had bothered with the difficult task to lock him out of anywhere, trusting him to heed their wishes. It was therefore both an interesting challenge and an unusual opportunity. He could see how far his control over the Manor went without going against his mother or father.

Like most of the doorways in the house this one bore a tiny impression of the Malfoy crest directly above the keyhole. As he looked at it, the realization struck Draco that it appeared to be the same size as the crest on his family ring. It had also been given to him for his fifteenth birthday and his father had explained that it was specifically in tune with his personal magic. He had known that in the world at large this ring could still be formally used as a signature, now he wondered if it worked to represent him and his magic to the magic which controlled his home.

He reached his hand out and pressed the ring into the impression on the door. There was a brief pause and then the faint noise of the lock releasing sounded in the hallway. With a grin on his face Draco lifted the latch to open the door and stepped inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the glooming dimness in the cellar. As they were able to take in his surroundings Draco's jaw dropped in absolute astonishment and horror. There, cowering in the corner of the room half hidden behind a miserable cot was a man whom Draco had known since he was eleven and had heard of for most of his life.

"Mr. Ollivander," he gasped out in disbelief.

The man looked up at his startled exclamation with an equally surprised expression on his own face. Draco looked more closely at the man. He noticed that the older but generally well-preserved wizard he remembered now appeared frail and gaunt. His clothes were in tatters, hanging off of his frame, clearly showing his loss of flesh. He had deep circles under his eyes, as if he had spent many nights without rest. It did not surprise Draco that this would be the case, living in such conditions. The man's complexion was not just pale but sallow, showing the length of time he had spent without sunlight or fresh air.

The man hunched in the corner brought to mind for Draco a story he had heard when he was young of a man kept in a dungeon by an evil sorceress. He realized with a horrified start that this was in fact what had happened. Not having thought it was possible, Draco felt his revulsion towards his aunt grow exponentially as his mind tried to sort out what was in front of him. This well-respected, brilliant man was being kept prisoner in Draco's own house and he had been utterly clueless about it.

As all of these thoughts had been going through Draco's mind, the old man had not taken his eyes off of him. Neither had he risen from his defensive place in the corner of the room. Draco realized there must be more to this situation than merely his aunt holding a man against his will and moved cautiously to try and show the man he meant no harm. Holding his hands up slowly to prove that he was unarmed and that his wand was sheathed, Draco attempted to reassure the man before him.

"Sir," he began softly, "I'm not going to hurt you. I swear, I didn't even know you were here until I heard a scraping noise in the corridor outside." The man relaxed a little and Draco was now able to see by the light from the still open doorway that his skin was not only pale, but covered in many places in cuts and bruises. He shuddered to think how a prisoner of his aunt's would have come by such injuries, unconsciously rubbing his slowly mending wrist with his other hand. He was startled when the man addressed him in a soft but scratchy voice.

"Young Master Malfoy. Hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches, relatively springy." This was said in almost an undertone as the man's eyes drifted slightly out of focus as if seeing something other than what was before him in his mind. Draco was not even sure the man knew that he had spoken until those dark, troubled eyes snapped back into focus on his face and the man continued. "I was always curious why such a wand would choose a Malfoy."

Despite his curiosity at such a statement, Draco ignored it for the moment in exchange for worrying about more important things. As he took in the room around him he observed its complete lack of anything resembling living requirements other than the flimsy cot the man had hidden behind at upon his entrance. Ignoring his concern that his aunt might return and discover him there with her prisoner, he decided he could not simply overlook what was happening in his own home and began working out what could be done to help the man.

He knew he could not simply release the prisoner without putting his mother in significant danger. If Bellatrix was keeping him here, odds were that it somehow involved the Dark Lord. Draco might have a conscience, but he also had a brain. He knew that interfering in this situation rashly without thinking it through would have dire consequences, not only for himself, his family, Severus and probably even the prisoner. It was likely that wards had been set up to either incapacitate the man if he were to somehow escape the cellar or at the very least to track him if he got away. However, there were other ways in which he could be helped while he remained where he was.

"I don't know what's happened to you or why you're even here," Draco said in a tone one might use with a frightened animal, "but I'll do my best to help you. It's Bellatrix who brought you here, isn't it?" At the sound of his aunt's name the man once again huddled in on himself in the corner. That was all the confirmation Draco needed. "Ok, just a moment," he said before turning and stepping out in the hallway. Glancing both ways down the hall and listening for a moment to be sure no one else was around, Draco snapped his fingers softly. Almost instantly a very small house elf appeared in front of him. Looking down at the little creature Draco instructed in a low voice, "I need you to do some things for me, Fuzz, but I don't want anybody to hear us talking about it."

The elf instantly nodded his head and closed his eyes in concentration. A blue-tinted shimmering appeared in the air around the two of them and Draco knew that Fuzz had cast a barrier much like the one that he and Blaise used when they did not want to be overheard. Nodding in satisfaction he refocused his attention on the tiny elf before him. Unlike most house-elves the little creature had a crown of short fluffy hair covering his round head. This had been the source of his name, Fuzzy, which Draco had always shortened to Fuzz since they had met.

Fuzz had been given to Draco for his fifth birthday. The elf himself had been fairly young at the time to do any actual work and very small for his species. Lucius had decided that he would be better used as a kind of nanny for his son, rather than for housework. He had given Draco full reign over the elf other than the expectation that he would watch over the little boy and not let anything happen to him. Draco, only really having Blaise as a friend at the time, took to the elf as a second playmate. Though Lucius was somewhat confounded that his son would want such an interaction, he kept his word and allowed Draco to do as he wished with the elf.

Because of this unusual beginning, Fuzz and "Little Sir" as he fondly called Draco had always had a unique relationship for a servant and master. With most house-elves Draco was generally indifferent, understanding their uses and in turn their needs. He was neither particularly cruel nor particularly caring towards them in general; rather more in the habit of letting them get on with what they needed to do than interfering in any way. Fuzz was somewhat different though. He trusted the little creature, liked him and did his best to take care of him and make him happy. In turn, Fuzz was fiercely protective of and loyal to Draco. Anything the Little Sir asked him to do was accomplished to the utmost of his ability and with the greatest joy that he could still take care of his now not-so-little charge. Because of this, Draco knew for sure that he could trust the little creature to do whatever he asked of him in this delicate matter.

"K, first, what do you know about the man in that room," Draco asked. He was not really surprised that Fuzz had not said anything about the situation thus far, considering how often Draco had been absent from home and the elf's protective nature towards him.

"Little Sir must be very careful when going near that room," Fuzz squeaked. "The dark mistress would be very angry if she found Little Sir here. The dark mistress keeps her prisoner there. Fuzz doesn't know why she brought the prisoner here, but the house is displeased that she is doing so, and without the Fair Mistress' or Master's permission."

At least that answered the question of whether or not his mother was aware of Ollivander's presence in the house. Draco was not surprised that his aunt had gone behind his mother's back with this. He nodded for Fuzz to continue.

"The Fair Mistress told all of the elves that we must obey the dark mistress and so we does, even if we doesn't like what she tells us to do. She says we must not tell anyone about the prisoner and so we didn't. Fuzz is so glad that Little Sir found out for himself. Fuzz is not liking keeping secrets from his Little Sir."

Draco bent down and patted the little creature on his head as the elf hugged himself around Draco's leg. Despite the situation, Draco chuckled at the tiny thing. Fuzz's head only came up to Draco's knee. It would be so easy, he thought, to underestimate this rather unintimidating being. He knew, however, that magically, Fuzz was one of the strongest of his kind that Draco had ever encountered. It was almost as if to make up for his size he had been born with greater magical abilities than most.

"Fuzz," Draco asked, straightening up and getting back to be matter at hand, "what did you mean when you said that the house doesn't like what Bellatrix is doing? Do you mean that the other elves are upset?"

"The elves, Little Sir, and the rest of the house, too. It doesn't like her magic trying to take hold when the Master hasn't allowed it. That is probably why Little Sir was able to find the prisoner. The house doesn't like secrets being kept from the Masters," Fuzz assured him, shaking his head emphatically.

Draco realized that this was probably true. If his aunt had locked Ollivander down here and not said anything to himself or his mother she probably also placed a silencing charm on the room as well. Clearly it had not held against him as he had been able to hear at least a small sound coming from the room when he had been going up the stairs. It was an interesting thought that he filed away for later speculation.

"Ok, well, I don't really like it that much either, but for the time being, there's not a whole lot I can do about it. I need to keep her from getting too angry, or really too interested in me at all for the time being. Let's just say that anything else she tries to keep from Mother or me, you come tell me. But only after casting this spell" he indicated to the blue shimmer that surrounded them, "so no one else will overhear, understand?" Upon receiving a nod from his little friend he continued. "Also, right now I need you to go to my room and bring down the case of completed potions sitting on my desk. When that's done, bring me some food and some juice from the kitchen. Make sure to get things that are good for people who have been ill, soup and bread and maybe some fruit."

With a little grin of understanding and a quiet "pop" the elf vanished. Draco listened again to see if anyone had noticed the interaction, but was not particularly worried. He knew Fuzz's shielding charms worked perfectly fine and trusted the elf to warn him if anyone had been near. When Fuzz appeared back in front of him with his potions Draco instructed him to bring the food into the cellar quietly, in order to not frighten Mr. Ollivander further, and then to keep watch outside in case anyone, particularly his aunt, came near. When Fuzz left for the second time, Draco took a deep breath and turned back to the door. Pushing it open slowly he stepped inside. Again taking a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, he found the prisoner where he had left him. Sighing, he approached him slowly.

"Mr. Ollivander, I'm not going to hurt you. Actually, I've got some things here that can help you, if you'll let me." He inched forward slowly, trying to be as unintimidating as possible. Just then, the door creaked open a little further and Fuzz entered with a tray of steaming hot food. Looking around, the little creature closed his eyes again and a soft glow slowly began to light the place. Draco smiled, realizing that Fuzz had been careful not to overwhelm either human in the dark space by quickly lighting it up. He nodded to his little friend to place the tray on the floor and watched as Fuzz scampered out of the room to stand guard. He turned his attention back to Ollivander who was watching the whole situation with a wary expression on his face. His posture, however, had relaxed somewhat and Draco took this as a good sign.

"If you'll come sit on the cot I'll see what I can do for your injuries. The food is for you, too. You look as if you could use it." Cautiously, as if expecting some trick, Ollivander settled himself on the cot and picked up the tray off the floor. Clearly hungry, he all but inhaled the stew and bread and gulped down the juice Fuzz had brought. Once he was finished with the food, he looked up at Draco, eyeing the case of potions still gripped in his hand.

"I have a burse ointment, as well as a potion that will go a long way towards healing any cuts you might have. Is there anything else I can't see? Any other injuries?" Draco busied himself searching through the various vials of potions he had made with Severus that summer, not wanting the man to feel like he was being stared at.

"A burn on my arm that doesn't seem to want to heal," came the reply. "Inflicted by magic, so I don't know what it'll need to heal." Ollivander's voice was still soft, but apparently the food and drink had done him some good as it had lost some of the scratchy quality it had held earlier.

Nodding, Draco came forward slowly with the medicines he thought would help and held them out one at a time to the man, instructing him on their various uses. The man silently accepted and applied them as instructed. He was clearly wary of Draco touching him, but the blond figured that was to be expected. Even if he was trying to help, the man had been kidnapped, tortured and held captive by Draco's own aunt. He did not expect to earn his trust by one act of kindness.

"I'll have Fuzz come in and cast a glamour over you so that Bellatrix doesn't realize that you're better," Draco offered.

Ollivander looked up in surprise. "He can do that, cast a lasting glamour? He's that powerful?"

Draco chuckled, "Yeah, doesn't look like much but Fuzz is quite impressive when you see what all he can do. He'll help you when I can't." As he straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall, he asked Fuzz to come in and, in addition to the glamour, place a warming charm on the cot. He explained to Mr. Ollivander that while he knew it probably was not as effective as a blanket, it was less obvious should Bellatrix come to check on him. The man nodded in response before thanking him quietly for his help. At that Draco chuckled bitterly.

"There is no reason to thank me. You're being held hostage in my house and there's not a thing I can do to stop it. I'm pretty sure there are wards around you preventing your escape, even if I were to release you," he glanced at Fuzz who after tilting his head to the side and looking closely at Ollivander nodded sadly. Acknowledging that he had been correct with an irritated huff Draco continued, "I know people think that we're evil, but I know my parents would never condone this if there was anything they could do to stop it. If I tried to let you go, not only would the wards prevent it, but my aunt would know who helped you. I can't do that to my mother. Bellatrix doesn't really care that Mother is her sister. She would turn on her in a second if she was angry enough. I'm sorry; I wish I could do more. Like I said, I've done nothing worth being thanked."

Ollivander studied him for a moment after he had finished his frustrated rant. He glanced down at the now empty tray of food and the packed up healing potions that Draco had gathered to take with him. The man appeared thoughtful before he softly spoke. "Hawthorn: a hard wood, resistant to rot. It is thought to cause ill luck to uproot it and is particularly powerful against dark creatures, especially vampires and werewolves." He met Draco's confused gaze before he continued, "Unicorn Hair: like all parts of the unicorn, it is a protection against corruption and poisoning. It is a symbol of purity. Magical implements made of a combination of hawthorn and unicorn hair are believed to have the ability to protect the heart and soul from corruption." He paused before quietly explaining, "that, Master Malfoy, is why I was so surprised that such a wand selected a young Malfoy as its master. I am now particularly pleased to discover that my hasty judgment of you appears to have been somewhat mistaken. It suggests that there is more to you than your family or the expectations of others. Wands are very rarely wrong in their choice of master. One can only hope that your wand will help to fight against corruption of your own heart and soul."

Draco stared at the man before him dumbfounded. Removing his wand from the sheath at his belt he studied it as he had not done since just after he had received it. Over the years it had become a comforting extension of himself. It was both encouraging and unsettling to learn this new information about something that he had taken for granted for so long.

Somewhat at a loss as to how to respond to the man's explanation, Draco merely nodded and stooped down to collect the potions kit from the floor in front of him. As he turned to leave he spoke over his shoulder, "I won't be home most of tomorrow, possibly not at all. Fuzz will bring you food when it is safe to do so and reinforce the glamours and heating charm when he can. I'm sorry, but I won't ask him to come here if the risk of discovery is too high, but when we can, we'll help you."

The old man nodded his understanding. As Draco walked out the door he heard Ollivander add as if talking to himself again, "Hawthorn, also attractive to the fair folk, particularly sprites." It caused Draco to stop short and look over his shoulder, but the old man had already dropped himself onto the cot and appeared to be drifting off to sleep.

Closing the door behind himself once again, Draco heard the lock click into place. He decided to store the potions he had used on Ollivander in the vault, rather than risk being caught carrying them back and forth from his room from then on. He instructed Fuzz to do as he had promised and continue care of the old man whenever it was safe when Draco was not there to do it himself. After making sure the wards were reset on the vault, Draco asked Fuzz to apparate them both to Draco's rooms for the night, not wanting to run into anyone on the way up. It was not until he was readying for bed that he realized that he had not even thought to ask Mr. Ollivander why his aunt and the Dark Lord were interested in him in the first place. Resigning himself to the knowledge that it might be best that he not know, he decided to at least mention the whole interaction to Severus and trust him to inform him if it were safe to do so.

* * *

**AN: What do you think about Severus' explanation of ****Occlumency? Compare Draco's experience with Harry's in the books. Do you think that their personality differences would make a difference in their ability to shield their thoughts? What about Draco's growing roll in his home? Magically he is apparently becoming an acknowledged Master of the Manor. More ****responsibility****, but at least this one is a positive element in his life. I'm somewhat ****intrigued by Ollivander. In the books he strikes me as something of a grey character. Not a bad person, but not a hero. It seems that he and Draco would understand each other. And Fuzz! Love that little guy! While I'm certainly not a supporter of slavery, I do think that it's made clear in the books that not all house elves are miserable and abused. It seems that many of them care for the families that they are tied to.****Either way, I liked writing a house elf who was magically a very strong character. **

**Let me know what you thought.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 –

_…Death Eaters now serving sentences in Azkaban for trespassing and attempted theft were attempting to steal a prophecy.__**[1]**_

Ginevra read the line in the Daily Prophet with a sigh as she put down the paper. It was not that she thought the Death Eaters who had attacked them did not deserve punishment. It just concerned her that Draco's family had been caught up in the whole situation. The Lucius Malfoy she had met the night of the attack was nothing like what she thought a Death Eater would be. His deranged sister-in-law, yes, but he had been so different from her expectations. If for no other reason than that he had let her go. He could have killed her when she had come face to face with him after having been separated from her friends and yet he had walked away. Not only that, he had warned her, asked her not to involve herself. And then, when it had been unavoidable, he had done for her what she had done for his son and taken her out of the situation for her own good. The question that had been rolling around in her head for the few weeks since the whole confrontation was "_What did this mean about him, his family and their service to the Dark Lord?"_

Mr. Malfoy's apparent desperation had concerned her. She was worried about what would happen to him, to all of them, now that the Death Eaters had failed to bring the prophecy to their master. Tom had never been the forgiving type and she knew that a defeat by Harry and Dumbledore would have done nothing to brighten his reaction to the fiasco.

Ginevra's worries seemed to have been confirmed when she saw Mrs. Malfoy on the platform at the end of term. The elegant lady Ginevra remembered from the various times she had seen her had been replaced by a worn, almost stricken-looking shadow of herself. Clearly her husband's absence had put strain on the pretty woman. Ginevra remembered her own mother's reaction when her father had been attacked at Christmas. It made her feel more sorry than she even understood for this woman who she had never actually met.

Watching Mrs. Malfoy as she hugged her son, Ginevra's eyes were drawn over the woman's disheveled blonde head and met with the stormy grey ones of the Lightning Boy. Giving him a small smile, she thanked him the only way she could without causing problems, surrounded as they were by the throngs of people on the platform. She mouthed the words, glad when he nodded his understand of what she was saying. She had wanted to thank him for his help with the situation in Umbridge's office. She knew that without the wand he had let slip to her, she and her friends would probably have been unable to get away. She also wished she could tell him about what his father had done and thank him for that as well. In the end, she was forced to settle for mouthing the words "I'm sorry" and hoping he understood that she meant it.

Ginevra had hoped that things might settle down for everyone now that school was out but it seemed as though that was not to be. As if the constant tension of Tom's return were not enough for anyone in the wizarding community at the time, her family had the additional stress of work for the Order. They had to deal with the recent situation at the Ministry while trying to work through the loss of one of their own. Ginevra had not realized just how much she had become accustomed to spending parts of her holidays with Sirius until he was no longer there. More than that, she knew that if his death saddened her, it had been a harsh blow indeed to others who had known him better. It nearly broke her heart to see Remus, the last remaining member of the Marauders – if one ignored the dirty Rat – as he moved about clearly only going through the motions, mourning his friend. She could only imagine how Harry was feeling having lost yet another member of his family and having to deal with it around those awful people he was forced to live with.

On top of everything, around a month after school was out Ginevra and the rest of her family were surprised one evening when her brother, Bill, announced at dinner that he and Fleur were engaged. While this seemed rather abrupt, it was not until Fleur came to stay with them at the Burrow for a few days that Ginevra realized how much of an irritating situation this was proving to be. The woman was simply insufferable. Though pleasant enough at first, the way she treated everyone and everything around her nearly drove the women in the house insane. At the same time, her mere presence left most of the Weasley men, with the exception of Ginevra's dad, staring stupidly in her wake.

The only good that Ginevra could find to have come from the whole arrangement was that she had more of an excuse, one acceptable to her mother who was no more fond of Fleur than her daughter was, to visit the twins more often. Her parents were nervous about her being away from home with the various dangers that had cropped up recently. Despite this, her mother decided to allow her to stay with the twins at their apartment above Weasleys' Wizard Wheeze while she and Ginevra's father were out working for the Order. Though the idea that she needed babysitting irked her somewhat, she would be the last person, given the alternative, to complain about the reasons behind what little freedom she was able to get. Especially amidst the irritation of Fleur's presence.

It was, therefore, with mixed feelings that Ginevra received the news that Ron's friends would be arriving to stay at the Burrow somewhat earlier than expected. While she was happy to see both Hermione and Harry, she knew that her mother would view their company as the perfect excuse for Ginevra to stay home from then on. Especially with the uptick in attacks that had occurred lately Ginevra knew she would likely have very few visits to Fred and George's in the near future that did not involve the whole family.

When the two guests arrived things did turn out better than Ginevra had at first expected. For one thing, they were much more ready to include her in their activities than they had been in previous years. She was not sure if this was because of a growing interest she noticed between her brother and Hermione, causing Harry to be something of a third wheel without her presence. It privately amused her how now that she had outgrown the youngest child need to be included in everything, the very people she had tagged along behind in previous years seemed to welcome and almost expect her to do just that.

That amusement was sometimes shaded with annoyance when she noticed the sidelong glances she received from her mother and even Hermione whenever she and Harry were paired off in some way. She knew that they had all believed for years that she harbored some kind of childish crush on the dark-haired boy. It only made since to them that she would considering how he was not only the hero of all Wizarding Briton, but he had specifically rescued her from the Chamber back in her first year.

However, even though she and Harry had grown to be closer friends over the years, that was all she ever saw him as: a friend. It was bothersome when she received those hopeful and knowing looks from the other women when there was nothing there, at least not on her part. What did they expect? The reason that she and Harry had spent any additional time together was solely due to the fact that Ron and Hermione had taken their infatuated bickering to an entirely new level. This left Ginevra and Harry with the options of referee or spectator to these sparring matches, either of which was likely to result in mild bodily injury, or escaping away from the melee either together or separately. With the alternative there being time spent with the French cow or Harry, of course she would choose the latter.

Regardless of how well she was getting along with the Golden Trio, Ginevra was unusually glad when the day after Harry's birthday their letters and booklists arrived, signaling the start of term was drawing near. It also meant that they would all be allowed visit Diagon Alley that weekend to pick up their school supplies. It would be the first time Ginevra had set foot out of the garden surrounding the Burrow since Hermione had arrived. She was hoping to speak with the twins and see if they could talk their mother into allowing her to come back to the store occasionally between then and the beginning of school. George had suggested that she come do some work for them over the last few weeks of summer to earn a little pocket money to take to Hogwarts with her. As she had no other source of income, she greatly hoped that her mom – or perhaps her dad would be the one to talk to – would see reason and allow her to go.

After having split up from Ron and his friends, Ginevra and her parents made their way to the bookstore. It did not take very long to collect the four sets of books needed for this year and carry them up to the counter. As the clerk looked over all of the books they had selected she mentioned that there was an extra book that was recommended but not required for anyone taking O.W.L. or above level Care of Magical Creatures. This comment caught Ginevra's attention and she glanced cautiously at her dad. She knew how expensive schoolbooks were and she had no desire to add more of a burden on her parents than they already had, having so many children. At the same time, she loved the subject.

Unlike Ron, Hermione and Harry, who took the class only to please Hagrid, it was one of the highlights of her week. She loved learning about animals, magical or muggle. It was one of the things she shared with Charlie and his love of all things dragon. The fact that Hagrid's teaching style and choice of creatures to study were somewhat unorthodox only served to amuse her, rather than put her off of the subject as it did for some. At that point she was not sure if it would be something that eventually turned into a career as it had for her brother but she definitely wanted to keep it open as a possibility.

Though she had tried to repress the eagerness and interest over this extra book from showing on her face, her dad chuckled ruefully when he caught her peek in his direction.

"You know, Gin, I had been planning on paying for four sets of books this year, along with robes and supplies. Now that the twins ran off so spectacularly from school and are taking care of themselves, I don't see why we can't get a little something extra. Mind, I'll be giving Ron the option to pick something that he would like as well. Remember this is your 'something extra' later on when he's getting something he wants."

Ginevra grinned and nodded before turning back to the Magical Creatures section of the store to find the recommended volume. It only took a moment to locate the book, the most recent work by the brilliant, though possibly somewhat crazy, author of the third year's required text _The Monster Book of Monsters_. Luckily, it had a significantly less intimidating cover than that of _The Monster Book's_ allowing the bookseller to stock it on a shelf rather than in a cage. A smirk crossed Ginevra's face as she remembered the trouble those particular volumes had caused before everyone had figured out how to quite them by stroking along their spines back in her second year.

Unfortunately, it appeared that these books were much more popular than their more aggressive predecessors had been. The once clearly-full shelves of them were empty other than a few remaining copies located on the top shelf. Not seeing a step-stool anywhere at hand, she mumbled under her breath about the troubles of not having inherited her father's tall gene as many of her brothers had. Straining on her toes, she tried to grab one off of the high shelf with no success. Lowering herself back down she was ready to accept defeat and go ask for help from the shopkeeper when she felt someone step up behind her and saw a pale hand easily pluck the copy she had been trying for down to hold it in front of her. She spun around to come face to chest with someone a good deal taller than her before looking up into a pair of molten silver eyes and a not unkind smirk.

"Malfoy," she exclaimed in a half questioning tone as she looked between his face and the bestiary he now held between them.

"Ginevra," he answered evenly, but the smirk on his face grew into a little grin at the surprise that flitted across her face when he used her given name. Though he had moved the book around to hold it in between the two of them, he had not stepped back. This caused them to be standing quite close, far closer than average acquaintances, especially ones who were thought to generally dislike each other. He looked briefly at the cover of the book he had fetched down for her with some interest before passing it to her hand.

"Care of Magical Creatures? Interesting subject," he said conversationally.

She made a noncommittal sound of assent as she tried to figure out what he was doing, standing in a bookshop on Diagon Alley and apparently chatting her up like it was something they did every day. It was then that she got a good look at his face. It was the first time that she had seen him since the end of term on Platform 9 ¾ and it was shocking how much he had changed.

His face, which had begun to change into a more grown up looking fullness at the end of last year, was thin and held almost a sallow look to it. His hair, always so precisely groomed, hung limp and somewhat un-kept and was an inch or two longer than she remembered having ever seen it. It was his eyes, however, that held the greatest change. While they held an almost playful look as he stared down at her, they were surrounded by dark circles as if he had not slept well in several nights. She could clearly see signs of wariness in them and there was a haunted, tired look in them that was all too familiar. She remembered that look staring back at her in the mirror by the middle of her first year at school, when she had begun to realize that something was very wrong with Tom and the diary. It was unsettling to see it now on someone else's face and it made a cold feeling run through her stomach to think about what could have put it there.

Apparently she gazed at him for a few seconds too long causing him to shift nervously under her scrutiny. Unsure of what he might have read on her face in that brief time, she quickly rearranged her features to a more casual expression and agreed.

"Yeah, fascinating. Do you still take it? I'd have thought that after the whole Hippogriff incident you'd have dropped it as soon as you could. I don't even think that Ron is taking again this year."

At that, the rueful smirk crossed his lips again and he chuckled. "Heard about that, did you? I suppose I did my best to make sure everyone did at the time." At her eye roll and nod he sniggered again and continued. "Yes, well, I suppose that after having that interesting run-in I decided that I'd better actually try and learn something in there, if only to avoid getting myself attacked twice. I'll admit, once I actually tried, it became much more interesting. Grandfather always kept a few interesting creatures around the grounds of the manor and I did like visiting them when the opportunity arose."

Somewhat surprised at how normal this interaction felt, despite it being with Draco, Ginevra was willing to admit to herself that she was pleased by it. They spent a few more minutes chatting casually about the various sorts of beasts that could be found at Draco's home and about the time that Ginevra had been able to visit Charlie at the dragon reserve in Romania. It was not until he heard his mother call for him that the atmosphere shifted from relaxed to tense. Ginevra could almost see the steps which took place to transform the smirking teenager into a hard-faced young man as they crossed his face. It was unnerving.

As he turned to go, Draco nodded to her and wished her a good coming year at school. Before he could round the bookshelves Ginevra felt the need to end on a better note than simply having returned to formalities.

"Draco, I-I just wanted to say…" At her pause he stopped walking without turning back to face her. She took a deep breath and continued. "I wanted to make sure you knew that I really am grateful for what you did at the end of the year." She wanted to say more, to tell him she really did understand, at least a little, how it must feel to be worried about his father. But she did not think he would appreciate feeling as if she pitied him so she left it at that.

For a moment she thought he would walk away without responding but he turned to look at her. Even with the carefully constructed mask covering his face, there was a definite expression of sadness as he met her eyes briefly before he murmured "Yeah, well, don't go thinking I'm some kind of hero just because of last year." Then he turned the corner and was gone from view.

She heard the bell over the door chime announcing his departure as she made her way to the front of the store. Her parents were waiting, chatting with the girl at the front desk.

"Oh, Ginny," her mother smiled as she walked up, "I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for you, dear. Get caught up looking at books, did you?" Her smile faded somewhat and she continued on without giving her daughter the chance to answer. "Well, we need to be going. I know Hagrid can watch over them well enough but it does seem like Ronald, Harry and Hermione can get themselves into trouble in the best of times. Now…" She trailed off with a worried expression on her face.

"Now, now, dear, I'm sure they're fine," Ginevra's dad assured as he paid for their purchases including Ginevra's new book. "Though you are right, we should be heading that direction if we want to make it to the twins' shop before we have to be back. I told the driver we would only be a couple hours."

With that, the three left the store and made their way down the street towards the other half of their group and on to the twins' store. As she straggled on behind the group, Ginevra noticed that they had once again crossed paths with the Malfoys, though it was hardly surprising as they appeared to be doing their school shopping as well. When the pair stepped out of Twilfit and Tattings she heard what appeared to be the tail end of a slight disagreement. It also appeared that Draco was winning. They had just reached the storefront of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes when the others paused, taking in the generally hectic appearance of the store. There were mixed reactions throughout their party ranging from shocked to entertained. This stop was fortunately long enough to allow Ginevra the opportunity to hear what was being said between the Malfoy mother and son. She felt somewhat abashed at eavesdropping but the look on Draco's face back in the bookstore motivated both her curiosity and her concern and these feelings eventually won out.

"…promise I'll be fine on my own, mother. Really, it's not as if I have much to worry about from…well it would cut down on the entertainment factor if anything were to happen to me so early, so I'm pretty sure I'm as safe as can be." Rather than being reassuring, this quiet declaration caused Mrs. Malfoy's face to fall and her son to hurry on. "Besides, you have to meet with the lawyers. Being late won't do anything towards motivating them to do their best, no matter how much you pay them. Please, I'm meeting up with Blaise in just a bit anyway, so I won't be alone. Go on and I'll meet you at home."

Either convinced or at least agreeing with Draco's concern about tardiness, Mrs. Malfoy finally nodded and, with a parting peck on her son's cheek, headed back up the alley in the direction of Gringotts. Ginevra knew vaguely that that was also the general area in which less commercial businesses, such as lawyers and corporate offices, were located. It made sense that with her husband in prison, Mrs. Malfoy would be spending a lot of her time working to both keep the family affairs afloat and make any efforts to get her husband released.

It was with some surprise that when Ginevra turned from watching Draco's mother walk away, the boy himself was nowhere to be found. She also realized that while she had been absorbed in the conversation between the two blondes, her family had finally moved to make their way inside the twin's shop. Her dad had only just paused on the doorstep and glanced behind him in search of her when she realized that she was standing alone in the street. He held the door for her and grinned.

"Lost in daydreams again, Gin Bug? Always one to be in your own head rather than the real world, aren't you?" His tone was teasing but affectionate and she grinned and nodded to him as she passed.

Despite the fact that she had been in the store several times earlier that summer, the simply outrageousness of the sights and sounds one experienced when stepping inside still hit her. She was not sure how the twins could stand waking up and walking downstairs to this first thing in the morning, every morning. Though honestly on second thought, it probably did not faze them in the least. Having taken a moment to absorb the atmosphere of the place, Ginevra headed off in search of one or the other of the twins. She wanted to remind them of their offer of a job and see if they could help her wheedle permission from her parents to be allowed to work for the last month before school started. While she thought that all hope of being allowed to work for the twins was lost when she heard about Ollivander's kidnapping a few days before the trip to Diagon she thought it might still be worth a try. They both agreed whole-heartedly to talk to their dad.

It was therefore a happy surprise to her when her mom, not her more lenient dad, pulled her aside after they had been in the shop for a while and mentioned that George had spoken to both parents about the arrangement. Though she still had a worried air about her as she discussed it, her mother reluctantly agreed that it would be good for Ginevra to be able to work if that was what she wanted. Also, though she still kept up the façade of disapproval over the whole subject of the store, it was clear that the boys had impressed their mother with their achievements. She admitted that, while not as safe as home, the twins' shop was the only place she would consent to having Ginevra spend any significant amounts of time away from one of her parents.

Her dad, who had walked up in the midst of the conversation, also added that Fred had assured him that both he and George, along with Bill, had set up a sophisticated combination of wards around the establishment to keep out unwanted guests. Mr. Weasley was particularly impressed that they were able to develop such a powerful combination and arrangement of spells that – while deterring those who would cause harm – did nothing to discourage honest patrons. This news clearly set her mother much more at ease and by the end of the conversation, Ginevra could not contain her triumphant grin as she made her way over to the front counter to enquire about her new work schedule.

"What's got you grinning like the cat that got the cream, Red?" The voice came from just behind her, though halfway around a shelf stocked with joke caldrons. It was vaguely familiar though Ginevra could not place the speaker. She turned to see the dark features she recognized as belonging to Draco's best friend, Blaise. She was completely confounded that twice now in one day a Slytherin had not only snuck up behind her without doing anything horrible, but had spoken to her as if conversations between them were everyday occurrences. However, at the genuine look of open curiosity on his face, Ginevra decided to simply go with the flow and see where the conversation took her. It was not as if she had to give away any Order secrets – had she even known any – in a conversation in the middle of her brothers' store. Besides, if he got on her nerves, all she had to do was alert the twins and Blaise would wish he had never heard of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

"Wouldn't you be grinning too if you were the newest employee of this fine establishment?" She asked with a self-satisfied expression when his curiosity turned into a grin of his own. She was surprised by the dimples that showed briefly on his face when he allowed himself to smile like that.

"My congratulations, Red," he said with a mock bow of his head. "Sounds like a fun way to spend the last few weeks of summer." His response sounded genuine and she allowed herself to relax into a conversation with him.

"So what are you doing here? I must admit I'm a little surprised that a Slytherin would be seen in a store overrun by Weasleys." While her words might have sounded taunting, her tone conveyed that she was only teasing him. He did not disappoint her by getting irritated, rather replied in turn.

"Well, I was somewhat concerned that I might have to bathe in cleaning potion once I left here, but I must say it has grown on me. Rather like a fungus, is it not?"

She laughed freely at his teasing jibe and they began walking around the store together, looking at the oddities her brothers had developed. She found herself tell him stories about their various mishaps while in the development phases of each. He actually laughed outright at some of her descriptions of them accidentally cursing themselves with bubblegum pink hair and having to spend a week that way before they figured out how to undo that particular affect. They continued easily on like that until Blaise glanced down at his watch and mentioned that he would have to be leaving soon as he was meeting a friend shortly.

"No need to cut your fun short on my account," drawled a voice as they looked up to see Draco striding towards them. He had an odd expression on his face that Ginevra was unable to decipher. She did, however, notice Blaise look in Draco's direction and then step towards a shelf holding boxes of self-inking quills. She was unsure whether or not he was genuinely interested in the product or if for some reason the indecipherable look on Draco's face had made him move slightly further away from her. She shrugged it off and greeted the blond, who's face once again smoothed out into a half smile for her.

"Clearly I can't get away from tiny redheads today," he commented.

"I guess you're going to have to try harder in future, or at least not come back into this store for the rest of summer. You are looking at the newest Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes employee, hopefully starting tomorrow," she announced proudly.

Draco's brows lowered in concern and he asked, "Are you sure it's safe for you to be working on Diagon with all of the attacks that have been happening lately?"

Though surprised by his worry, Ginevra quickly assured him that she would be completely safe with the twins around. He seemed to think about this and then a smirk cracked across his face.

"I suppose you're right. They certainly do have interesting ways of taking care of you. Proved that last year with Montague and the vanishing cabinet, didn't they?"

Remembering that particular event made her giggle lightly and brought a little smile to both of the boys. The friendly air surrounding the three might have continued a bit longer had the clock on the wall not blared loudly to signify the time. Glancing at each other, the two Slytherins admitted that they needed to finish their school shopping before it got too late. They wished her a good rest of the summer and said that they would stop by the shop if they could and see her. Then they turned and headed out of the store. She noticed that they made a quick detour, ducking around a cluster of noisy children, in order to avoid a confrontation with Ron and Harry as they left.

"So they'll stop back in the store to say 'hi,' will they?" Fred asked coming up on her right.

"I'm not sure whether I should be happy that you are already bringing in business for us or concerned that the business you're bringing is specifically male," George mused from her left side.

She had seen them both lurking around while she chatted with Blaise and figured they would hear most of the conversation with the two Slytherins. She simply turned to face them and shrugged.

"If I choose to use my womanly wiles to bring in business, you should both just be grateful." After a pause she added, "You may demonstrate that gratitude, brothers dear, by keeping it to yourself and not letting mom or Ron catch wind of the fact that I am on speaking terms with a Malfoy and Zabini." She smiled innocently up at the two of them who both threw back their heads and laughed.

"Don't bother trying that look on us, sister dearest," Fred mock scolded.

"We helped you perfect that one to use on dad when you were three," George reminded her. "Just like our more annoying products are designed not to work on us-"

"-a complete stroke of genius, that was, if we say so ourselves-"

"-skills we taught in the area of manipulation and persuasion have little effect on us either. However, considering how much we love you-"

"-and how much of a pain it would be to clean up brain matter from Ron's head exploding in our shop-"

"we will graciously neglect to mention that you were fraternizing with the enemy in our very presence."

Having missed observing these half-and-half conversations since they moved out of the house, Ginevra watched them go back and forth with a grin. Accepting their assurance that they would not mention the odd encounter between herself and the boys, she reached up on tip-toe and gave them both a peck on their cheeks in thanks.

"Awe, Gerogie, I think I'm going to blush if she keeps up sweet little things like that!" Fred teased as they walked her over to the counter to discuss her upcoming work schedule.

By the time the rest of the family was ready to go, Ginevra was set with a full-time schedule for the next four weeks and had been keyed into their wards for the floo. This would allow her to floo directly into their apartment upstairs rather than using the public floo and went a long way towards easing her mother's mind on the whole situation. It was with a bounce in her step that Ginevra followed her parents back to the Leaky Cauldron to meet up with their driver. Not even the prospect of Fleur waiting at home could dampen her mood as she had the assurance that she would not be spending tomorrow trying to find ways of hiding from the irritating girl.

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[1] (Rowling, J.K. _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_. 39)

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**AN: Ginny's thoughts on the end of year debacle, a real conversation with Draco, more Blaise and a job at WWW! Personally, even as an adult I think that last one would be fun. Let me know your thoughts!**


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